


The Gift of Love

by mistyanditsraining



Category: The Good Fight (TV), The Good Wife (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Flashbacks, Mentions of miscarriage, Parenthood, hurt/angst, love/romance, mchart pregnancy, young mchart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2020-07-31 04:15:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 88,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20108989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistyanditsraining/pseuds/mistyanditsraining
Summary: An alternate universe where Diane Lockhart and Kurt McVeigh navigate life as parents.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Amphoraeimpetus on Tumblr for all her help with this, and to my wonderful, wonderful beta for inspiring me with different ideas, encouraging me and giving me her honest opinions. It's very much appreciated!
> 
> All rights, bar a few original characters and the idea, belong to the shows writers and cbs. 
> 
> Some warnings: there are references to miscarriage, I'll add a note to the chapter when it will be mentioned specifically.  
As this is an AU story, I decided to introduce a new spin to it, such as occupation changes and some timeline differences.

She rolls her shoulders, happy to be out of the cold and misty rain beginning to sprinkle down. She's so cold her breath can be seen still as she walks further into the airport, her scarf bound tightly around her neck and trailing down her body, the golden cream swaying slightly to her brisk steps. Fingertips press to her lips, her eyes flutter across the many, many screens; all containing various flight times, flight numbers, locations and destinations, which are delayed, which are early, which have been completely cancelled. Finally, her eyes settle on the flight she's been waiting for and her hand drops from her face, falling right into the palm of her other and she turns; making her way through the line of people engrossed still in the screens.

His flight has landed, and if nervousness, excitement, and happiness are what she felt in the car, then there are no more words to describe how she feels at this very moment. Her legs carry her up a flight of steps and she reaches a waiting area. Ever so impatient, and especially now considering she knows her husband is somewhere in the building, she can't sit down. However, what must be after at least fifteen minutes and still no sign of him, she's sitting and fidgeting. Her leg bounces in a timeless dance, her blue eyes tracing over every detail of the busy, crowded, noisy airport. In some ways, it resembles a busy city; the manic hustle and bustle. They share a love-hate relationship; in times like this, she tends to appreciate them, considering she's being reunited with her husband. Other times, she's come to despise them, come to dread them, with the fear she may never see him again. That the next time she hears of her husband, someone may be telling her he's never coming home.

She shakes the thoughts away and shifts to the edge of the metal chair. Facing the wide, automatic doors, her arm rests on the back of the chair and her thumb slides across the edge of her fingernail. Today is one of those joyful hellos, one of those good days, where her husband returns, where he comes home to her. Complete and utter joy bubbles in her stomach, pulsing through her with every beat of her throbbing heart and rushing up her throat to her mouth to be released in a sigh each time a loud, feminine voice announces the arrival of another flight over the intercom.

Beautifully manicured red nails drum against the arm of her seat, loudly clicking and soon drawing the eyes of another waiting woman. The familiar to see stranger shares a polite smile with the impatient blonde; they're both waiting, yet Diane can't be sure of who the woman’s husband is. She has never been one to mingle in with the clique, never joined any clubs the women seem to band together in. Engrossing herself in work has always been her way to pass time, not book clubs or art classes. Eventually, she tires of tapping her nails and looks at the magazine sitting limply on the small, square-shaped table beside her. She has no intention to read, she knows the moment she averts her gaze her husband will appear, and she'll miss him arriving.

Diane spins around and stands up, her arms crossing in front of her. Her thumb moves from brushing over her finger to the underside of her ring, the ribbed gold band twisting around her finger. The ring, which probably reminds most people of the day they married, is almost like a projector sending memories hurtling around her brain; of getting dressed that morning, of walking down the aisle, of seeing him for the first time that day, of dancing with him that night, and sharing stolen little kisses while no one was looking or the gratifying night to end the wonder of their wedding day. It still surprises her how in just a few months, they'll be married five years, together for ten. An emotional decade, some years more challenging than others, yet undoubtedly those and their love is what made them strong enough to last all this time despite his frequent absences.

Her head tilts back and she looks up at the ceiling for a moment, inhaling deeply as if she is trying to swallow her impatience. She drifts into her thoughts, thinking back to the last time she's seen him, and those long, lonely, worrisome eight months of handwritten letters and imagining gentle I love you’s as they fall into sleep; thousands of miles apart, hoping someday soon that news he will be coming home will arrive. And then the day it did. She had been mentally and physically exhausted, her new status as a name partner at Stern, Lyman, and Lockhart had her striving to be worthy of her new title. When she'd gotten home, she recognised the writing and paper immediately, and all stress and worry about work disappeared as she spent the night reading his letter over and over again.

A sudden shriek from the woman she exchanged glances with earlier causes her to look in her direction, then in the direction she is running in. The erratic heartbeats in her ears drown out every other sound. She finds herself almost floating as she follows the impatient crowd and worms her way through until she's near the front; her long legs providing her with a better view to see the doorways and the soldiers flocking out of it. Her hands clasp together again in front of her chest and her eyes light up as more and more men come through the doors and reunite with their loved ones. Yet they're quick to dull when there's no sign of her husband and she glances around with fear she may have missed him, but with no sign of him, she returns her gaze to the doors.

  
Two more men walk out, engaged in content chatter, but neither is the man she seeks. Until a familiar rucksack reveals itself from behind one of the soldiers. Suddenly, warm, glimmering brown eyes lock with hers and the skin around them crinkles as a smile shapes his mouth from beneath a new addition to his facial features; an addition that somehow only makes him impossibly more attractive. There's a bounce in his step, his walk picking up to get to her, but he stops and drops his bag to open his arms. She doesn't realise she's running to him until her slim body collides with his, the rucksack hitting the floor just before she reaches him. A grunt escapes him at the strong impact her small body creates, but he welcomes her and holds her tightly once she's inside his arms. Dainty arms fold around his neck and he leans back, raising her off the floor for a brief moment as she lets out a mix of a sob and a groan; both of happiness. Lowering her to the floor again Kurt immediately looks at her face, his gaze intense as he takes in every detail. A hand comes up to cup her cheek and she leans into his touch, her eyes never moving from his as they silently greet one another. His thumb strokes across her cheek then presses into the birthmark on her skin, his fingers curling around her neck and tensing softly, his large hand drawing her face to his for a kiss.

It's deep and rich, full of the ever-growing love they have for one another and all the words they have yearned to say in their eight months apart. Her hand curls around the lapel of his jacket and she pulls him even closer; trapping her arm between them as their lips push and glide across each other’s, tongues touching for the briefest of seconds and hands roaming; his across her back and hers into his hair. A low moan seeps out of her mouth and their lungs begin to burn, yet neither have the intention to part. When they do she presses her forehead to his chin and inhales loudly, her breathlessness audible and palpable to the skin beneath his chin. Sometime during their kiss, his hand had slid up her arm to clasp her hand in his hair. Now, he holds it at their sides, his thumb absently running over her wedding ring, but not for long before her hand twists to take his in hers again.

She takes a step back but keeps holding his jacket tightly; their bodies almost remaining close enough to shift into each other’s curves. His eyes pace her face again, taking in every little detail as if he can ever forget her, and she lets him. Usually, under such scrutiny, she would feel uncomfortable, probably ask a rhetorical question, but right now, right here, all that matters is him. She'll do anything he asks for without a moment of doubt.

Diane raises her head again and she meets two hazel raging storms of emotion. She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip for a moment and tries to calm her thoughts to make a simple coherent sentence. They can't just stare and smile at each other all day. With a wipe of her lip with her tongue, she swallows and a small smile begins to slide into place on her lips.

“Hello,” her voice is low, already becoming gravelly, so audibly cloudy with emotion and it makes him chuckle.

The smile on her face grows at the content sound and she watches him drop his head and shake it. An almost ridiculous bubble of laughter fuses with his and now with a toothy grin, she leans slightly to the side to try and see his face but he looks up again.

“God did I miss you,” he sighs as he steps forward to close the almost nonexistent space between them; a firm hand around her back and the other slipping back into her hair.

She hums against his mouth and nearly melts into him. The warm hands around her; the loving, teasing, wet lips on hers; the way he holds her to him, it makes her feel the safest she has in months. Breaking away, quite unwillingly, she presses another chaste kiss to his lower lip and eases back just a little.

“I don’t think security will want to kick a man of the army out for public indecency.” She murmurs and wipes his lips clean of her lipstick, her thumb brushing over his lips.

“Think he can blame me when it’s you?” He retorts lovingly, causing her eyes to bounce up to his darkening hues.

“Let’s go home,” she almost whimpers, her head falling to his shoulder as her arm slings around him; attempting some sort of an embrace.

He grunts in agreement and he pats her side gently, inclining her to release him from her hands to grab his bag. One hand grasping the duffle, the other immediately seeks out hers to hold, and he guides her through the growing crowd again. The walk to the car is full of stolen glances and shared looks of happiness, their connected bodies heating as if the clasping of their hands sends some sort of current through them; igniting sparks within them that will, undoubtedly, result in the passionate fire of their love and longing for one another.

  
The airport is, on average, a forty-minute drive from their townhouse, with traffic an hour at most, except this time it seems like the road goes on for never-ending miles, almost like looking through the wrong ends of binoculars. The feeling of his lips brushing against her neck, his moustache scratching the sensitive skin beneath her ear, the way his hand curves to the shape of her thigh as she drives home; it all makes her want to simply pull over and climb onto his lap. Rather than driving home, it feels like she's driving insane, her eyes straining to keep from rolling into the back of her head as his breath heats her neck and sends a raging blush crawling up it; colouring it against her pale skin. Her eyes glance between both mirrors, relieve her that there are no vehicles behind theirs, and then looks down at his hand. To him, the simple touch, or grasp, appears innocent. But for her, the way his fingers press into her inner thigh and rub gently against her leg as his lips close gently along her skin makes her weak.

  
“Kurt,” she sighs, her hand dropping from the steering wheel to cover his; the inside of her hand shaped by the impressions of the wheel’s grooves from her tight grasp.

  
“Mm?” He hums lowly, the sound making her gulp almost audibly.

She can't respond, the only fitting way she can has to wait for two more torturous miles. She hopes the squeezing of his hand with her own will satisfy him but he continues his mouthy assault on her neck. Her hand grasps the wheel, again, with her nails pressing into the leather when his warm hand moves further up her thigh and she braces herself for his touch, only to be partially relieved when he moves his hand to the top of her thigh. The other half of her, secretly, is hoping for a little more, but it's for the best, otherwise, they’ll end up with the car coming to a screeching halt as her leg involuntarily juts out.

The sight of their townhouse is relieving. The morning grey sky releases tiny, sparse droplets of rain that are barely noticeable on the windscreen as the car rolls closer to their driveway. The streets are a silvery-grey, reflecting the shimmer of small pools from the sun peeking through the clouds. It isn't the coldest of January days, yet no one plans to go out without a coat just yet. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip in exasperation and after parking the car in the drive she turns to look at him, his face still close enough to her she can feel his breath on her top lip. It's only now she can truly see the love and unconcealed desire burning in his eyes and she realises the innocent gesture wasn't innocent on his part by any means.

She holds his gaze for a brief moment, her eyes slowly tracing down his face to his half-curled up lips. Eyes return to the others and close with a blink as they lean in, their mouths meeting again in a deeper, passionate kiss. Her hand reaches out to curve around the shape of his neck and his slide back down to her inner thigh; the move drawing a gasp from her that he hungrily swallows up in their frenzy.

The rush from the car to the front door is messy, including Diane dropping the keys first and then mixing up what is her house key and her office key. Once inside, however, Kurt is quick to put the waiting to an end by grabbing her by the waist and dragging her to him. With her back to his chest, her hair ruffled slightly and a small gasp escaping her, his fingers pull her scarf away again, holding it down as his lips graze her skin. Her hand reaches back; as much as she wishes to go slow, she knows she can't resist him much longer. He can tell by the grasp of her hand on his side that she's giving him time to re-explore her body, fighting her own desire. He reaches around and turns her, his hands cupping her face as he kisses her, her own hands now pressing to his hips and pulling them into hers as she involuntarily bumps hers against him.

Kurt steps forward, the movement pushing her back until she hits the wall beside the bedroom door. Somewhere in the foyer she’s dropped her keys, been rid of her scarf and lost a shoe, leading her to kick off the other. Her tall stature is dwarfed by his even taller one, his large hands engulfing her like armour, protecting her from everything malevolent out there while stealing her away from all the greatness that lingers too, pulling her into their own little bubble, tucked away from the world.

"I'm surprised she's not barking yet." The breathy comment is directed at the tiny but feisty toy dog probably locked up in the kitchen for the time being.

Diane's voice is just as breathy as his, only it possesses an almost mischievous tone. "I'm offended it's the dog you want making noise."

He mumbles his protest into her mouth as he presses his own to it. His kiss is foreign, but not his lips. However, the new addition that scratches above her upper lip makes her knees tremble just slightly as the new sensation sends a cool shiver down her spine, despite the layers of clothing wrapped around her body. He begins with her coat, his fingers expertly slipping the black buttons through the small slits until it parts in two. Her hands grasp his jacket, her fingers aching from the tension she holds it with but refuses to release. They contract and tighten subconsciously as his lips began to move across her neck again, primarily fixated on the skin beneath her ear, his nose grazing the metal of her earring.

  
The coat lands at her feet in the shape of a crescent, the sudden removal of the layer causing a rush of coolness to swarm her body; but his relentless lips are quick to return that heat at a growing ferocity. Low hums buzz from her mouth, the sounds delicate and light as they brush by his ears. His hands are large against her sides, his fingers grazing her sides as his thumb brushes over her hip bones beneath her trousers. He intends to take his time, too. Intends to rekindle his undying love for every inch of her being, with his hands and his lips, until he can't deny himself any longer. Her hand slides up his chest and into his hair, her tingling fingers flexing within the thick locks until they are no longer aching from the tight grip she had on him previously. Suddenly, his mouth comes to a stop in their ministrations and his face moves away from her neck; causing the wet trails his kisses left behind to attract the very cold his hot kisses have been warding off.

"And there it is."

Her eyes open at the words and she looks in the direction the squeaky barks are coming from, dulled just slightly behind the kitchen door at the end of the hall. While her attention is focused momentarily on the lowchen terrier that seems to believe she's a lion, a large hand disappears from her side and the sudden shift around her, the way she is forced up, has her head snapping aside to look at him again. A low yelp slips from her lips and one arm wraps around his neck, the other gripping his hair. He holds her against the wall for a moment until she relaxes, a small, amused grin shaping his mouth. She has to squint to notice it beneath the hair above his lips, and when she does she releases his hair to slap his arm.

  
“You know I don’t like when you do this without some sign of forewarning.” She chastises, her head tilting to the side as she glances down. His arms are wrapped firmly around her; securing her.

  
Looking to him again she finds two brown eyes full of adoration, with a twinkle of amusement, and before she can find words to lecture him anymore her face instead gravitates towards his to kiss him again. Her hands cup his cheeks, her thumb brushing across the edge of his upper lip; causing him to smile into their lip’s embrace as she attempts to become quickly accustomed to his new look. She moans against his lips, the sound vibrating against his and enough to have his eyes flutter open to look at her. She'll never tire of kissing him, she's aware he knows that, it's a thing she never could and never can conceal from him. There have been nights where they didn't necessarily love one another but used each other, as a way of dealing with grief, with pain, or with anger. And yet while it may not have begun as a means of exchanging love, the harsh kisses and touches would soon lose their edge. Kisses would slow and become appreciative, become desperate for love and a rescue from the raging emotions they were surrounded by. It's always been like a reminder to them, that in times love may not be present in their eyes or actions, a kiss; expected, wanted, and needed, or not, would always convey the unwavering, ever-growing, ever-developing love inside one another, for the other.

  
He drops her to the bed, her body bouncing into the soft mattress beneath her. The dark red bedclothes highlight every wild strand of her hair and he shrugs his jacket off to toss it aside. She props herself up on her elbows to watch him, her blue eyes attempting to absorb every detail she may have forgotten in his painful absence. Excitement and love, above all else, pool in her abdomen; swirling and thrashing angrily like a violent sea storm, only on the inside it's a violent storm of emotions. When he looks up from unbuttoning his shirt he finds her nibbling on her lower lip, the lipstick that has been colouring her lips now smudged across her mouth. Her dainty fingers are doing a lousy job at unbuttoning her pants, her focus evidently on her husband, and the image doesn't fail to make him chuckle.

  
The bed dips as he climbs towards her and snaps her out of her thoughts. Zoning back in, she looks down at her hand to successfully unbutton her trousers only for his hand to close around it. Her hand withdraws from under his and their eyes meet. A glimmer of smugness radiates in them as he unbuttons her pants without needing to look and her eyebrows raise in feigned annoyance to accompany her childish smirk at her own inability. His hands press to the sides of her legs and pull on the fabric to pull it down her legs.

  
Kurt reaches for the end of her cardigan and pulls it over her head as she kicks off her trousers. His hands, while warm, are still cold as they slide up the bared skin of her taut abdomen, yet his eyes are burning her with his gaze. Her hands unbuckle the belt of his slacks successfully and she smirks at him, a silent ridicule of earlier that only has him bending down to kiss her. Her hands falter slightly as he pushes her back against the pillows. One hand comes to press against his cheek, the other pressing against his hip as her leg folds around the backs of his thighs. Everything is forgotten about as they devote themselves to the passionate lip-lock they are reluctant to bring to an end. The lustful intentions put aside for a moment of pure love and tenderness, of unsaid I love you’s, goodnights and good mornings.

  
When their eyes meet again their orbs have darkened into a nearly blackening state, so blackening that just looking at each other nearly makes them dizzy. Her hands clasp his face as his lips crash to hers again, this time frantic and wet; tongues graze softly, teeth scrape gently and lips are drawn into the others for long moments. His hands make their way into her hair, his forearms framing her head, neck, and shoulders like a shield. It's always somehow, someway, been like this. Once she truly got to know him, once she realised this little love affair wasn't just some little romance, once she became aware that this man; this rustic, unique, stoic cowboy, that this infuriating, charming, amusing man, was in it for the long run with as much determination and want as she was, she came to realise that she would never be travelling down a lonely road, leaping over nearly impossible hurdles and stumbling hopelessly in the dark. Instead she would have him. They would make a promise, to always, no matter the consequences, be there for one another. And that's when it came to her that not always she did have to be independent, that sometimes, she could allow her happiness to depend on him, and he's done nothing but prove to her, time and time again that despite the times they struggled through, she can always rely on him, can always trust him, be assured he would never let her down.

  
What begins as a grunt develops into a cry of his name when his hips push against hers. Her foot, pressing against the back of his calf, slips at the motion and retracts to fold her leg around his hip, holding him there, impossibly closer still; wanting and needing to feel every little shift his body makes, every little graze of his fingers along her skin and lips as they wander across her throat and jaw, occasionally nipping her delicate skin and making her gasp. Her hands press into the back of his shoulders, not enough to hurt, but enough to reveal the pleasure pulsating through her body.

  
The rhythm they set is slow. While the lust, need, and desire is ready to break through, the love they have dominates over everything else. There's plenty of time to allow those emotions and needs to take over, but later. Now, in this very moment, it's about feeling; not just physically, not just grazing bodies with hands and pressing soft kisses and writing quiet murmurs across their skin. It's about feeling deep inside, feeling where their hearts pump out their love, feeling the very soul of their connection.

His fingers brush against her scalp and low whispers of,_ “I love you,”, “I missed you,” and “ I need you,”_ fill their ears. Delicate kisses of _“don’t leave me,”, “please stay,”_ and _“I’m home,”_ are shared and swallowed up. Soft touches of_ “I’m here,”_ and _“I want you,”_ linger across their skin, written in invisible ink, forever marking, for future memories when they look back, deep inside their personal album of memories.

  
Her fingers tug his hair and he raises his head from her shoulder, unexpectedly meeting her eyes. His hips fall out of rhythm at the unveiled emotions blazing in them, telling him everything he has to know, more than any kiss, any words and any sex ever can. Her hand in his hair moves to curve against his cheek and he turns his head to kiss her palm.

  
“I love you.” She tells him, her voice clear, but a whisper. The corners of her lips curl up as she speaks, her voice so smooth it's like the verbalisation of honey.

  
“I love you,” Kurt speaks instantly, her own words barely out when his are uttered, his eyes remaining open as he lowers to press a light kiss to her lower lip.

  
Her hand slides under his chin, her fingers pressing against the skin of his throat as his chin sits comfortably in her palm. With a gentle push, Diane encourages him to rest his forehead against hers and begins to move her hips again. Her hand finds its way into his hair as his lips press feather-light kisses to her cheek and nose. He can feel her breath become erratic, the deep sighs and low grunts colliding with his face.

  
Her hip pushes up against his and his hand wanders down her body to her leg, pulling it up against his hips; now moving at a quick pace, but not quick enough to overpower either of them. He touches her exactly where she wants to be touched, his hands skittering over her sides; making her squirm, and him chuckle when a small growl escapes her. She’s always been ticklish along her sides and he can never resist giving in to the temptation of grazing her there gently.

He knows her, inside and out, better than he knows himself, and yet at times, his wife can be a complete enigma; waiting to be unraveled and solved, and he patiently does so, with soft touches, tender kisses, and breathy whispers. His greatest achievement, despite all he’s ever accomplished. His pride in her achievements, her values, her strengths, and her power that she so delicately, humbly flaunts; be it with her walk, the way she flips her hair, the way she flicks a wrist to punctuate a point or the way her lips curl around her words. He knows her so well it’s hard to believe they’ve been apart for the better part of a year. Remembers every little centimetre of what is delicate skin and what is ticklish, and knows what movements make her breathless and knows which make her loud. It’s as if he’s been here, every minute of every hour of every day, just studying her, watching to see how she breathes, how she swallows and now he watches the droplet of sweat roll down her chin and down her throat. Watches the beads form down her chest and trickle until either they meet his body, meet with the red lace glued to her body, are swiped away by his fingers or tasted by his lips. Like an artist, admiring his work; his grand masterpiece that he never gets to finish, yet it turns out to be his greatest creation, his most refined work. And like an artist, he draws on her with his hands and his lips as if she’s his most treasured canvas.

In this very moment, it’s how her lips form around and pronounce his name; a drip of a whisper, so hushed and hoarse it’s hard to hear and he knows that his hands, his body, and lips, are all conspiring to do so much to please her, satisfy her, in a way no one else ever can. It gives him a high, knowing that this woman is his, willingly and wantonly. She gives herself up to him just as he so eagerly gives himself to her, a symbiotic, wonderful, loving bond. A soulful connection carved deep into their bones, to last a lifetime and beyond.

His fingers dance across her skin with tiny, timid ballet steps, crossing from one side to the other until his hand, wide open and fingers extended, curves around her side. Her breathing grows deeper and with every sharp intake of breath, he strokes his thumb across the bottom of her ribs. She wheezes as the scalding rage of his passion pushes every ounce of breath from her, each more forceful than the last until it’s like a searing wildfire inside her chest. His heated kiss adds fuel to that fire, her hand finding his shoulder and pushing him up to give herself a chance to breathe. His lips, however, can’t bear being apart from her and like a magnet, they gravitate, are almost pulled down and find her neck, his fingers curling into her hair.

She’s on the edge of euphoria, standing on a balcony and waiting to plummet into a blissful sea of rapture and delirium. And with one last push, with one last kiss and one defining touch, she falls. She falls fast and she falls hard, her entire body twisting, her hip pushing up from the bed and hitting his, almost knocking him off balance but he settles his weight, steadies himself and allows her to lose control, all while watching with a look of satisfaction of his face, lips curled up slightly, eyes cloudy with desire.

He would kiss her if the way she let’s go and the way she sounds as she utters his name doesn’t sound so enthralling, like the sweet harmony of a song written specifically for them and played by them, only. Her arm, now slung around his neck, slides back as her body limply falls to the bed, her leg falling aside. He bites the inside of his mouth as he waits for her to look at him, waits for the go ahead to finally bring their song to its triumphant end. Her eyes twitch and her tongue, slipping out to wet her lips, catches his attention, but not for long. The movement of her eyelids fluttering open in a flurry of blinks draws his focus back to them and he meets those blue eyes, still fighting the battle to remain open.

Her fingers press into his arm, her hand sliding down to grasp is forearm and holding onto it; her touch tightening and informative, encouraging him to start again, and finish what's begun. She gasps, still tender, when he begins to move again, once more at a slow pace; drawing out the deep grinding movements with the hope he can tempt her into bliss one more time. Her low grunts evolve into groans, and eventually, desire begins to fight a winning battle, too strong to resist and he gives in; his breath losing rhythm as she draws him closer to his release. His hand, beside her shoulder, bunches, and claws at the bedsheets and his hips jerk sporadically, then cease.

Her hands are pressed to his back, their skin slick with sweat and cooling rapidly, enough to cause a shiver to dance down her spine, making her jump beneath him. He kisses her temple, his nose brushing against her hair before he rolls onto his side, then falls onto his stomach, the floppy move causing her to bounce gently. She looks across and finds him with his eyes closed and a small smile stretches her lips. After sucking her lower lip into her mouth and reaching over, she uses two fingers to brush through his hair and down his temple, over the hill of his cheekbone, and off his jaw to rest on his bicep between them. His eyes open at her touch and his hand reaches over to rest on her abdomen, dragging her closer.

  
“Have you eaten?” She asks, her eyes wandering up to his hair, then back to his.

  
“Is that a suggestion, Mrs. McVeigh?” He smirks, causing her to ball her fist and nudge his side gently with it.

  
Sitting up, Diane smirks at his gaze as it shifts to look over her body and shakes her head; sending tousled, messy curls swaying. She moves over his body and grabs his t-shirt on the floor.

  
“No, it's actually a genuine question.” She replies, her tone so deliberately matter of fact he chuckles. Diane trails a hand up to his back and into his hair, then swings a leg over his back.

  
“Oh right,” comes the gruff, teasing reply.

  
“However now that you’ve mentioned it…” she continues, her hands coming to curve around the shape of his shoulders and she begins to press the heels of her hands into the tense muscles beneath.

  
“Mhm?” He edges on from beneath her, his hand reaching back to find the leg still extended to the floor. His fingers curl behind her knee and draw lazy patterns.

  
“I may take you up on such a suggestion.” She bends forward and presses her cheek to his for a kiss, then moves away slightly to look at him.

  
His lips are curled up into a smirk. Her fingers begin to massage his scalp and she moves her lips to his temple; allowing the kiss to linger for a little bit.

  
“I’m so glad you’re home,” Diane whispers and presses her forehead against his temple.

  
His fingers stop moving against the back of her leg and he taps there, causing her to push up off him. Kurt rolls around from beneath her and his hands on her hips pull her down to him again. She falls to his side, her leg locking around his hip as her head rests on his shoulder.

  
“I missed you,” Kurt says through a soft exhale, his voice so unusually timid. "Missed this bed."

  
She hums out a soft chuckle. "I know, I missed you too." Diane shifts impossibly closer to him and presses her lips to the skin beneath his ear, additionally whispering, “so much.”

  
His arm around her strokes over her shoulder, the large shirt swallowing her body. His lips press many kisses to her forehead and his fingers tap against her arm in a sporadic dance, before stilling.

  
“Kurt,” her soft voice echoes through the room again and he hums in response. Feeling her head shift on his chest he looks down to see her looking up at him. “Don’t leave again, not for a while. Please?”

  
His hand shifts to her head and he presses a kiss to her forehead right above her eye. They both know he has no control over when he is demanded to work, they can only hope he will have some time to stay home now. Just like he can't promise not to die, as she has asked him every time they stand in an airport saying goodbye. And while she knows these promises can be uncontrollably broken, not even by him, he still makes them to give her some sort of peace.

Nodding, his thumb strokes her temple and over her eyebrow, then he meets her eyes. “I promise.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for such wonderful responses to this, I’m so touched!
> 
> I think I should also mention that throughout the story there will be various flashbacks; which will be written in italics.

"I'm not doing it, Jonas." 

It takes every ounce of patience not to huff or sigh into the phone. Sitting in her car and parked in her driveway, her eyes focus on the door and her mind projects visions of what is lingering beyond it. Despite the irritating man rambling into the phone, a distracted smile finds a place on her lips, temporarily, now that she knows her husband is in there; safe, warm, happy. She promised to have everything requiring her immediate attention at work dealt with so they could spend some time together, yet it seems her sometimes ally, sometimes enemy isn't so keen on his new partner avoiding potential cases. 

Her eyes roll before she even realises they are moving, that smile disappearing again, and she drops her head back against the headrest. Arguing with the man never seems to work, but then again, arguing with any man often seems to go nowhere.

"Leave the file on my desk. I'll take a look at it  on Monday morning . But that's all, Jonas. Last time I checked, Neil McCormack was your client." 

Her partner is only beginning to express his appreciation when she hangs up and nearly fires her phone into her bag. Grabbing the leather straps she pulls it from the car as she steps out and slams the door behind her. From inside the vehicle, the dull evening is a rather beautiful scene; the sun's glimmer reflecting in the glass-like puddles and evening dew littering the road and grass gardens on either side of it. However, outside the warm interior is a bitingly cold breeze that makes her lips dry and she can immediately feel her cheeks redden. 

Her legs cannot carry her faster from the car to their front door. While the sun may still be seen as it tangoes with the horizon, the bitterly cold wind is sharp enough to cut through someone, and she's hoping tonight it won't be her. Teeth chattering, long legs pale and red painted lips nearly purple as the blue beneath mingles with the coated red, Diane steps in the front door of the house and nearly lets out a moan at the warmth its walls provide. 

"Hello.” The word is pushed out in a sharp breath as her lungs stop seizing up and relax to let the warmer, kinder air enter. She pushes away from the door to hang her coat up on the gold rack to her left.

"Kitchen." His voice calls out and she attempts to peek into the kitchen while stepping into the bedroom, but she fails to spot the man she seeks the most.

Having slipped out of her heels, she flexes her toes before making her way across the room to have a quick look at any mail, and drops her bag to the small table. Not seeing anything worth her attention, she backsteps and spins on the ball of her socked feet, then makes the brief walk to the kitchen. As she enters the room she tilts her head left to right and rolls her shoulders in an attempt to thaw the frozen muscles of her torso, too impatient to let the heat of their home work alone. 

"Hey," Kurt greets as she steps into the room, her head still hanging back and rotating.

"I was wondering where she was." She sighs as her eyes meet the fluffy body of their dog, sitting patiently with her tail wagging almost frantically as she watches Kurt. "It's bitter cold outside, but it’s..." 

The sudden stop of her words brings Kurt’s eyes to her, for him to find her surveying the view ahead. The kitchen is dimly lit; cream candles possess a small, flickering flame and stand proudly in the holders as the three of them line the long, rectangle table. A red table cloth, especially chosen for the Christmas holiday that has just passed is once again splayed out on the marble tabletop. Outside the sun is still setting quickly, as if it too is trying to evade the sharp cold, and even though it's relatively early in the evening it casts a gold shadow across the wall.

"What's this?" She asks, her eyes fluttering from his to the wine he is pouring. 

"Dinner." He replies with a slight smirk; the obvious answer a teasing one.

Diane purses her lips and tilts her head to the side; her blonde locks falling to the right as she gives him a look that silently conveys her playful annoyance at his response. 

"I can see that. I mean what's with the whole..?" Her arms circle outward in reference to the table decor and Kurt looks to it briefly, then offers her a glass of wine.

Extending a hand she accepts the glass from him with a smile of gratitude and takes a breathy sip, her tongue slipping out to wipe her lips after swallowing it down. 

"Well," He begins, only to stop and cross the room to the stove. "Considering I missed Christmas and Thanksgiving, I decided to make us a... festive dinner."

Her jaw hangs, just a little, as she watches him return to the table with plates full of various food. It almost feels like a dream, watching him maneuver around the darkening kitchen as if it actually is Christmas, and not an entire month later; an oven mitt on one hand and a tea-towel slung over his shoulder. 

Eyes still glued to his plaid-clad figure Diane watches as he tosses the oven mitt, that oddly compliments his rustic attire, to the counter and folds the towel up beside it. Another plate is in his hand as he returns to the table and upon seeing her almost infatuated with him, Kurt drops it gently to the table and steps towards her; then pulls her usual chair out from beneath the table and inclines her to sit with a slight dip of his head. A small smile begins to crease her lips and she steps around to follow his silent direction, but not without pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek. 

The past year has been tough without seeing him, considering this has been the longest they've been apart. Usually he would be deployed four months, maybe five, but after less men enrolled his services fell into greater demand, pulling him away from home for much longer than either ever experienced before. Thanksgiving she spent with her own family, a small dinner for the three of them that saw her retire to bed early that evening with a glass of wine to avoid the obvious gloom hanging over them.

It’s never the same when he’s not around. The first few weeks are quiet and rather dull. There’s no one there to interrupt her when she’s working or reading to tell her dinner is ready. The bed is often cold at night and it takes longer to fall asleep. Eventually she falls into a pattern, grows unwillingly accustomed to his absence. She no longer expects that interruption or expects to see his coat hanging in the hall, no longer presumes dinner is ready for her at home or she’ll walk into the living room to find him reading a book or watching TV with a glass of scotch in his hand. His scent wears off the bed, and eventually his clothes; that rugged mix of wood, earth and spice. Yet despite his absence, there’s not a moment, a memory of him that she forgets. 

She spent Christmas with her in-laws, who despite also suffering the same absence in their lives, still made the festivities worthwhile. A dinner fit to feed dozens, plenty of gifts to go around, turkey comas that had everyone's snores competing with each other. It was a quiet Christmas, but a comforting one, surrounded by people she loved, full of small surprises and she discovered the unknown ability to love her husband so much more than she already does. 

_“Diane, honey, what are you doing up?” Regina asks as she enters the kitchen, her eyes thinning as they close in on the slim silhouette sitting in the dark. _

_The moonlight reflecting off the thick blanket of freshly fallen snow in the garden highlights the contours of her face; the disarray of her hair, the bump of her forehead, the curve of her nose, the dip between her lips and the blunt point of her chin. _

_She startles quite easily, sudden yanked out of her thoughts and the clink of her wedding ring against the stem of her wine glass echoes around the kitchen. Diane looks over her shoulder and finally notices the other woman, standing there with an empty glass clasped in her hand and bundled up in a thick cotton bathrobe. She’s come to learn plaid runs in the family. _

_“I couldn’t sleep. Did I wake you?” She asks softly, her tone apologetic and she watches as her mother-in-law, Regina, approaches her, her slippers scratching lightly against the hardwood floor. _

_“Didn’t even know you were down here.” Regina reassures, her eyes drifting to the glass of wine on the table in front of Diane before reverting to the blonde again. _

_There’s a look written on the young woman’s face that Regina knows all too well, can understand all too well. One of longing and worry, of wishing and wanting. Without another word she moves to the sink and fills up her glass, before she walks back to the table and sits across from Diane. Her eyes take in the tired sag of her shoulders, one foot resting on the chair, brought up to press her leg against her chest, a cream oversized cardigan swallowing up her small frame. When she looks up she finds a pair of blue eyes waiting for her. _

_“You don’t need to stay up, Regina.” Diane reassures, her fingers curling around the stem of the glass and she brings it to her lips. _

_“I know that.” _

_She doesn’t say anymore, instead, Diane looks into the dark sea of wine in her glass as she returns it to the table, her tongue habitually swiping out over her lips. Somewhere, many, many miles away, is her husband, doing God knows what and putting his life at stake, when instead he should be home celebrating the festive holiday with his family, safe, happy, and able to rest peacefully in the comfort of his bed. _

_“I miss him.” Diane admits what needs not be told, her voice timid, and tinged with pain. _

_Her attention drifts from the falling snow outside to the warm, soft hand that takes hers and holds onto it. She finds a sad smile on Regina’s lips, the woman’s brown eyes half lit like crescents by the moon, the other half shadowed by the dark. _

_“I know, Sugar. We all do.” _

_Diane hums in acknowledgement, her other hand curving around the base of the glass, pushing it in circles. She so desperately wants to know if he’s safe, if he’s enjoying himself wherever he is, that he at least has company with some of his colleagues. That he’s not alone or hurt. _

_“Let me show you something. Kurt would kill me if I showed you these, but right now I don’t think he’d mind. Anything to get that little pout off your face.” _

_Diane watches as Regina rises to her feet and crosses the kitchen threshold into the living room, lamps flickering on and off as she goes, trying to quietly find whatever she’s searching for while Diane waits, half in anticipation, half in confusion. After returning to the kitchen she switches on a dimly lit lamp, and that’s when Diane notices the small, thick book in her hand. Rather than sit across from her this time, Regina slips onto the seat besides Diane and plants the book on the table. _

_Turning the cover, the grey haired woman mutters something unintelligible to herself before flicking through some pages, and Diane realises she’s looking at an old photo album. She takes another sip of her wine and a sudden gasp of excitement from Regina makes her hold the glass mid air. Swallowing back the alcohol, Diane leans to the side to see what Regina’s gotten so excited for, and the moment her eyes focus on the photograph her lips part. _

_“Is that...” _

_“Ten years old.” _

_Diane looks to her mother-in-law, surprise and disbelief all so clearly evident on her face, and she looks back to the photo again. _

_“You’re kidding.” _

_“Nope. It was his first day going fishing. I still remember him coming home and stomping up the porch steps because John caught a fish and he didn’t. The Kurt you know wasn’t always that Kurt. There were times he would disappear out camping for a few days, or spend a night out fly-fishing. As he got older he took an interest in guns, started going to the local range, went on hunting trips with friends. That’s what peaked his interest in university; ballistics. After he got his degree he decided to enlist, he wanted something... exciting, more fast paced.”_

_“That doesn’t sound like Kurt.” _

_“He changed as he got older.” Regina notes, her eyes wandering to the old, worn photograph again._

_Diane doesn’t know if she should press on, but with a frown worrying her lips, her curiosity eventually gets the better of her. _

_“What made him change?” She asks, and before Regina can answer her, Diane turns in her chair, facing her completely and resting her head on her palm. _

_Regina looks up at Diane again, a look of honesty on her face, written into every fine line around her eyes. “He met a woman worth being patient for.” _

_Diane’s eyes grow large, the words unexpected and causing her lips to open, yet no words come out. She has none, she’s been thrown off guard by the touching confession that despite nearly ten years of loving him, she’s never come to learn of this until now. _

_“I think in university he was more focused on his interests; guns, fishing, camping to really think of relationships. Not to mention being sent here and there for training and to serve. Of course he had a few dates every once in a while, but when he met you it all changed. He came home that day he was questioned and I had never seen him so smitten.” _

_“I was head over heels myself.” She admits with a low chuckle, the sound coming out quite breathily. _

_“He loves you, Diane. And wherever he is I’m sure he’s thinking about you right now.” _

_The words comfort her in a way no others can. She knows all she can do is accept them and hope that he’ll be home soon. _

_“Why don’t you take this on up to bed with you, have a flick through it and try to get some sleep, hm?” Regina suggests, closing up the photo album again and sliding it across the table to Diane. _

_Diane shifts her gaze to the tattered leather and lets out a breath through pursed lips. “You don’t mind?”_

_“Not at all, honey.” Regina reassures, her head tilting towards the staircase and Diane doesn’t hesitate. _

_Holding the album to her side with her arm, Diane grabs her glass and uses her other hand to squeeze Regina’s appreciatively. _

_“Goodnight, Gina.” Diane smiles kindly, before turning on her heel and making her way towards the stairs. _

_In silence, the older woman watches her daughter-in-law go, a pleased smile on her face. _

Diane remains silent as he makes his way around the table to his usual seat, her eyes bouncing from the candles to the plates and finally landing on Kurt as he sits to her right. 

"You know you didn't have to do this. I mean I should be the one making you dinner." She tells him as she picks up her glass of wine.

He only nods, which causes her to smile; it is easy to see how he's refraining from teasing her about her culinary skills, but the look he sends in her direction makes it obvious. Sipping her wine, she watches as he fills both their plates with what looks like double the festive dinner than what she indulged in over the holiday period. Kurt's always been the creative one when it comes to food and his culinary adventures, whenever he is home, seem to have influenced Diane to become that bit more flamboyant when it comes to cooking. The only difference is, she never overindulges in anything fancy unless it is for a good reason; otherwise, it's simple salads and pasta dishes. 

"God, I missed your cooking." She mumbles, her hand cupping in front of her chin as she presses her fingertips to her lips

Diane leans to the side when something warm brushes against her leg and she places her fork to her plate, allowing her to reach down for Justice and lose her hand in a sea of thick fur for a moment, before she sits upright again. Small conversation is made, mostly about plans for the upcoming few days she's taken off work and how they spent their day. 

A short time later, as Diane pushes her nearly empty plate further toward the center of the table Kurt refills her glass, then places the wine bottle to the side again. It's only when their conversation stills that she becomes aware of the faint drones of the classical music humming lowly from the corner of the room. Instantly, she recognises the sweet melody; the violin at its prime within the slow ballad. 

When she returns her gaze to Kurt, his eyes are already waiting for hers and they flicker almost brighter than the glow of the candles. The flames dance to the gentle music, a quick rhythm to the harmonies surrounding them. Shadows shape their faces, Kurt's crescent-like and Diane's nearly half shadowed, half lit. The sun has offered its farewells for the cold, wintry evening and has made way for the still rising moon, its reign of darkness already quickly setting out to capture everything it touches. 

He mutters something; a tease, or possibly a question, but the words are fuzzy and her sight blurry as her eyes slip closed and her palm presses under his chin; guiding his lips to hers. Whatever he said is quickly forgotten as he responds with the delicate pull of her top lip in between his and holds it there. His hand curves around the bend of her inner-elbow and shifts back and forth in a soothingly soft manner; her lips just as gentle as they glide and tug on his and entrap him in some glorious spell of love. 

Dark blue eyes with light twinkling within their pools flutter open to watch the lines on his forehead disappear, and his eyes open too. She can feel him swallow against her hand and wipes her thumb across his jaw bone. The hand resting on her arm retracts and pulls her hand from beneath his chin, and he walks around her chair to her opposite side. Coaxing her along, the steps of their feet are quieter than the beating of their hearts and Kurt turns around to pull her into his arms. One curves around her lower back, the other slipping into her hair as her arms press to his chest between them. 

He stares down at her and when a smile is nearly fully shaping her lips, he presses his lips to her forehead and lets them rest there. Pressing another kiss to her skin, Kurt shifts his head to rest his jaw against her temple and he can feel her breathe out as she relaxes against him. Their legs bump against one another's as they move around the kitchen; mostly their knees colliding softly as they sway. Her hand slips up his chest, the flannel of his shirt soft beneath her palm as she trails her hand around his shoulder to his back and then begins to toy with the hair at the base of his head. 

"Where did you find this shirt?" She asks quietly, the spontaneous question enough to make him look down at her again. 

"In my drawer, why?" 

A sheepish look shifts into place on her face and she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. "I wore that one in bed a lot." 

A slight scoff of laughter bubbles from his mouth, but it is only brief because they are both aware of how painful their separations are. He brings her face closer to his again and presses a kiss to her temple. 

"No wonder it's my favourite." He murmurs into her ear and the hand in her hair drops to curl around her shoulders. 

Her head rests against his chest, it is easy to hear the comforting drum of his heart beating straight into her ear, and she doesn't once doubt his words.

She's spent the past months in their house; watching the sunrise and sunset as the moon took its place. She's read newspaper articles and grimaced at cold coffee long forgotten about because one article was too good to take her eyes from. She's burnt her toast and had to grab a fruit bowl on the way to work instead, or her pasta sauce didn't turn out exactly the way she wanted it and most her dinner ended up in the trash. She's cut her finger on a tin can when feeding Justice and held the throbbing digit beneath the tap as she impatiently tapped her foot and muttered about the incident to the dog no longer paying attention to anything but what's in its food bowl. She has found herself sitting in the kitchen at four in the morning eating cereal and overlooking court notes because sleep seemed to stray from her that night. She's broken plates and ran out of milk when she needed it most. She's fallen asleep on the couch and woken with a pain in her back or has let the fire die down when she wanted it alive. She's forgotten to finish books because court got in the way and only remembered about them several weeks later.

And while all that, and more, has happened, none of it has ever felt more like home than being in her husband's arms, dancing on a dark, wintery night after a warm home-cooked meal.

“Oh,” she hums, raising her head from his chest. “I got you something.” 

“You did?” He asks, his arms loosening around her as she pulls away, her warm body parting from his and he watches her shuffle across the kitchen. 

Diane almost glides, her steps silent and with lips pouted in curiosity, Kurt watches her search through a small cabinet before she pulls out a little box, wrapped in blue with a gold ribbon bow tied on top. When she turns around again there’s a small smile on her face, her teeth sinking into the corner of her lower lip to give her a rather goofy expression. She moves closer to him again, the box cradled sacredly in her palm, her arm bent in front of her and Diane comes to a stop in front of him. 

“We never got a chance to celebrate the big four-oh, but I got you this anyway.” 

An impressed look graces his face, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “You bought me a birthday gift?” 

“I always get you something for your birthday.” She shrugs her shoulder, her head tilting down and almost meeting it. 

“You know you didn’t have to do this.” 

“I know. But I wanted to. Open it!”

Kurt holds her gaze for a moment before he drops his eyes to the box, then grasps it with his fingers. Diane clasps her hands beneath her chin and watches as he unravels the bow, then pulls apart the paper to reveal a thin, square, black leather box. With an inquisitive glance at Diane, he opens the box to reveal a silver wrist watch. 

“Diane...” he sighs, his thumb brushing over the strap before he looks up at her. 

She’s smiling at him, her fingertips pressed against the front of her chin. “I got it engraved too.” 

He pulls it from the box and turns it over, his eyes dropping to the timepiece again to allow his eyes drift over the words,  _not one word, not one gesture of yours shall I, could I, ever forget. _

“I had a little help from my friend Tolstoy.” 

He laughs quietly as he tosses the box onto the counter. Diane takes the watch from him and once he turns and extends his arm she closes the watch around it, her thumbs brushing over his palm as she pulls her hands back. 

“You still swoon over a man who can quote Tolstoy?” He asks, his arm curling around her lower back, pulling her into him once more. 

A chuckle comes from her, and the memory of their late night conversation discussing their flaws has a sheepish look forming on her face. 

However, she rather confidently, and teasingly responds. “Yes. Why?” 

He looks over her shoulder for a moment, his head tilted back in thought and Diane narrows her eyes. Chewing the inside of her mouth, she waits until his eyes return to hers, and when they do, there is a wave of wisdom, but a sea of mischief, awaiting her reaction. 

“Nothing is so necessary for a man as the company of an intelligent woman.” 

Her lips part, her eyes displaying their surprise beneath a flutter of blinks. A gasp of a laugh, a brief breathy one, escapes her, and Diane finds herself shaking her head. 

“My, my, Kurt McVeigh, quoting Tolstoy? I’m impressed.” 

“Found a copy of War and Peace while I was away and I decided to see what it is you find so swoon-worthy about this guy.” 

Grinning at him, the shape her mouth curving in as she beams up at him reveals a set of white teeth, her lips framing them almost like a curtain does a stage. It doesn’t go unnoticed that he put himself through literature he’s often teased her about, merely as a way of being closer to her when they’re so many miles apart. 

Rather than respond, her hand cups his cheek and guides his face to hers, her lips grazing his softly before pressing harder, yet the kiss is still delicate and docile. Their arms slink around each other again, holding one another with no intentions of letting go or of parting anytime soon, and in time to the music, their knees once again brush against each other as they sway, their lips too engrossed in their own slow dance, to pay any sense of notion to the soft music echoing around them. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: brief mentioning of miscarriage.

Spring comes with a breath of warm air. Coats, hats, scarves, and gloves are no longer necessities. The sun shines more, blue skies seem to linger a little longer before still dull clouds overtake their place, and thankfully the sun isn't rising so late and disappearing so soon. It's refreshing, after so many boring months of rain, grey clouds and dark nights. While the wind is still cold, it's no longer icy, and with the window down just slightly, Diane relishes in the breeze brushing her hair back off her face. 

They lose track of time soon into their journey; the destination being Kurt's parent's house, the very home and town he grew up in, and the very place they got married. It still surprises him sometimes, that this woman; this city person, this regal attorney who he, upon first meeting, believed didn't even own a pair of jeans, wanted to marry in a small countryside town. With their hands clasped in his lap, Kurt uses his other to steer the truck across the endless, smooth road, cascaded by trees, finally shrubbing and returning to life. She looks over at him, a wide smile on her face, the ferocity of the wind bursting through the small opening causing her hair to brush across her cheek in a frantic, lively dance. Feeling her gaze he looks to her, her smile eventually being mirrored as he brings her hand to his lips then returns it to his lap. 

Music ever so softly plays from the speakers around them, belting out the harmonised voices of Kurt's favourite band, country of course, with two easily identifiable voices belonging to Willie Nelson and Johnny Cash. She's teased him, time and time again, for his music choices, yet over the years of making this journey and others alike, she's become accustomed to his music tastes and even when he's away serving, it's no surprise to hear her listening to a few CD's or listening to his favourite radio station and turning up a song that reminds her of him. In the past, she would cringe at the mere thought of having to listen to that kind of music, yet now she can't fault it, can't fault _him_, because it all fits so perfectly. The plaid shirts, the worn jeans, the unstylish vests, and the cowboy boots. The country music and the hoarse scratch at the end of his words when he speaks. The moustache has only been another jigsaw piece, perfectly slotting into place. 

Early in their relationship, there had been times where she'd sat in her tiny, first-year associate office, watching the latest Republican interview, or been driving home and listened to a song she'd heard him listening to, all a part of her trying to figure him out. Little did she know, some more time with him and she'd understand him as if he had been turning the pages of his own book, opening himself up to her with an open heart. It was a similar case with his family. She's close to them now, but it didn't happen immediately. She loves to visit, not only for Kurt's mother's cooking; a trait Kurt definitely got from the elderly woman, but for the political sparring she can enjoy for some time. While politics and opposite views may frustrate her, it's always good to hear the other side of the argument, even if she doesn't believe it or is utterly against it. 

It's just after midday when they see the first sign of the town. High rise buildings can be seen in the distance and grow bigger as the truck rolls nearer. Upon closer inspection the old, red stone brick and the newer cream toned buildings contrast to give the town a welcoming front. With foothpaths lined with trees, showing off small, still growing leaves and boasting immactulately clean streets, it makes it easy to see why Kurt loves the place so much. It's warm and inviting, full of kind people Diane has come to know over the years through Kurt and his family. From the amount of times she's been out to spend a day or even a weekend with her in-laws during Kurt's deployment she's become quite a regular around town, no longer needing to introduce herself as much. 

Turning a corner, they pass by the bridge leading into the park and Diane gazes out the window, her eyes locking on a jogger before they disappear, running around a bend. They drive over a river and that's when they know they're on the outside of the town, another mile closer to the McVeigh farm. The pass several houses, some larger than others, some with more refined, well cared for gardens and others with minimal decor or a _for sale_ sign on show. A scratch against the seat behind her makes her look over her shoulder, then pull her hand from Kurt's to reach back, and immediately she feels Justice move against it, coming closer insinctively. She shifts around, her arms extending so she can untangle the tiny leash keep the small dog secure and pulls her forward until she's settled on her lap. 

Kurt glances down at the panting lowchen before brushing a hand softly over her head, his fingers grazing Diane's hand as it retracts and returns to the wheel. When Diane looks up from the pup in her arms, she finds they've pulled off the main road and are now making their way down a small, narrow lane. The truck rambles on, the ground still wet and soggy beneath the wheels, the impressions printing into the bared earth beneath. They pass by a small stream that trickles into a pond, the water glistening in the unveiled sunlight. 

When they reach the house, the first thing that’s noticeable is the freshly painted exterior; a pale, yellowish cream colour that is complimented by the dark brown wooden porch and front door. Flower pots line the windowsills. The road continues across the front of the house and leads up behind some bushes, where the barn resides and out-of-view fields flourish. Instead of taking that path, Kurt parks besides another truck, vaguely similar but much older than his. 

Diane leans forward to peek in the side window. Busy, with what looks like baking, and unaware of their arrival, Diane spots her mother-in-law. Securing the dog to her side, she climbs out the truck and places Justice to the ground, and straightens up again to press her hands to her back, arching slightly in a stretch. Finishing with a low groan, she walks around the truck and walks up to the house, Kurt at her side with their travel bag in hand and Justice trailing along behind. 

The wooden porch creaks beneath their feet as they climb the two steps and approach the door. He pushes it in and allows her to step inside first, then follows and calls out their arrival as he shuts the door behind. They receive a scream in lieu of greeting from the kitchen, and Kurt isn’t sure if hearing his mother’s delight or his wife’s reaction to it makes him happier. Diane, after flashing him a peppy smile, shoots off around the corner and through the wall, and he can visualise the embrace the two women are sharing. 

When Diane and his family first met ten years ago, there had been some hostility in regards to politics, but the moment they got to know Diane without the political aspect of her character, she was welcomed into the family like the daughter they never had. And even now, it’s still the same. 

Rounding the corner after dropping the bag to the end of the stairs, Justice scampering along beside him, Kurt finds the two women in the kitchen, one filling three mugs of what he presumes is tea, while the other tastes a freshly baked crumble. He gravitates towards his wife and she, with one hand cupped beneath the small chunk of the freshly baked good; still warm and falling apart if touched, with a blackish juice oozing from it and running down the edge of her hand to leave a purple trail, offers it to him once he’s in reach. 

“Blueberry, your favourite.” He tells her through his chewing, his finger extending to wipe away the crumbs at the corner of her lips. 

“I have to run by the market to pick up some limes for yours,” The older woman informs him, drawing his attention to her as she happily watches their interaction and patiently waits to serve their tea. 

“Mama,” he approaches her, arms opening to embrace her. 

Diane can only smile as she watches her husband approach his mother and she grabs a tea-towel to wipe her hand clean. She stands and watches as the older woman, with light grey hair that was once a dark black, as seen in photographs, and dark brown eyes embraces her son with those eyes closed and an expression of happiness, relief, and proudness all etched across her face. 

“Let me give you a moment alone,” Diane suggests, already taking a step towards the door only for an utterance of protest to stop her. 

“That’s not necessary.” 

Diane turns to face them, and the resemblance between them is uncanny, so much it makes her smile. 

“I insist.” She reassures, beaming at her mother-in-law, then looks to her husband. “I’ll bring our bag upstairs.” 

She continues her walk again, only to be stopped once more, and she stands half in, half out the threshold of the kitchen. 

“Don’t take too long, your tea will get cold and the crumble is cooling quickly.” 

“I’ll eat that crumble stone-cold, Regina.” Diane reassures once more, then finally steps out of the kitchen. Grabbing the bag, she makes her way upstairs to give the other two a moment alone. 

Regina looks up at her son with a coy smirk, the exact one her son is known for. “She called me Gina.” 

A sceptical look instantly appears on his face. “My Diane?” 

“She’s the only Diane I know.” Gina nods, eyes wavering to the direction Diane just disappeared in, then fluttering back to Kurt’s. 

“Ma,” Kurt shakes his head with a snort of a laugh, a grin shaping beneath his moustache and he embraces his mother once more. 

His disbelief is understandable. After ten years, the nickname everyone else tends to refer his mother to has never come from Diane’s lips; despite Regina’s insistence and Kurt’s reassurance. Until that one night this past Christmas.

“Really! She missed you this Christmas, I tried comforting her a little and she called me Gina!”

Seeing his mother’s insistence Kurt, through a parted lip grin, let out a sigh of acceptance. 

“How long are you staying home?” Regina moves on, stepping back and leaning against the countertop.

Kurt, after sliding his hands into his jeans pockets, his thumbs out and curled into the loops in front of his belt, looks over his shoulder before returning his eyes to his mother. His voice is low, deliberately, and has her leaning her upper body forward. 

“I ah...” his hand raises to rub against the back of his neck, a habit Regina has seen since he was five years old. “I resigned, and I’m looking to get a job here in Chicago.” He tells her, but before the look of delight on her face can be expanded into more, he continues, “I haven’t told Diane yet. I don’t want to get her hopes up in case it doesn’t go to plan, and if it does, I wanna surprise her.” 

A sigh of happiness sounds from her and she clasps her hands together in front of her chest. “What are you looking into?” 

“Ballistics, mainly. There’s also the possibility of training young soldiers.” Kurt shrugs one shoulder. “I don’t like leaving her on her own.” 

“You’re worried about her?” 

“I’ll always worry about her when I’m not around.” Kurt shakes his head, “It’s been almost four years. And with this partner track, Stern seems to think he can just hand off whatever case he doesn’t want to do and expect her to do it. This is her first chance to breathe in weeks." Before he can continue, the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs catches his attention.

His mother only pats his arm in a comforting gesture and smiles up at him, and without having to say anymore, he knows his words are safe with her, as they’ve always been, and he turns to face his wife as she peeps in the door again; almost asking for permission. The move has Regina chuckling before she ushers her in and offers her a mug of tea. 

Diane sits at the small, square table, light brown oak but covered in a cream tablecloth with tiny peach, pink and yellow flowers all over it. Her hands curve around the mug and she brings it to her lips, just as Regina brings over the crumble and sets it down, along with several plates and cutlery. 

Kurt sits in beside her, his arm reaching out to rest on the back of her chair. “I saw dad’s truck outside. Is he around?” Kurt asks as his mother sits across from them and bends to the side, petting the eager dog at her feet. 

“He’s gone down to Bill's farm; one of his cows is having problems delivering her calf.” Gina grunts as she sits up straight, her eyes first settling on Diane with her hand on her chin, then Kurt. 

Slicing up the crumble, she extends an arm with a plate in her hand, which Kurt takes and places it down in front of Diane, then declines another offered plate. 

Kurt clicks his tongue. “Poor thing.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, then takes a bite of her own dessert. 

Kurt sips his tea, his hand moving from the table to Diane’s shoulder for a gentle squeeze, then back to the chair. 

“John is coming down tomorrow.”

“John?” The excitement in Kurt’s voice is evident and Diane can only look at him with a small smile. 

She knows just how close the two brothers are, and considering they haven’t seen each other in almost a year, his eagerness is heartwarming. 

“Yep.” 

Diane only chuckles a little, at both; her husband’s excitement and the traditional family term. 

“The crumble is wonderful, Regina. I don’t know how you do it.” Diane tells her, setting down her fork and wiping her lips with her tongue. 

Regina smiles at the young blonde and holding the fork; full of her own crumble just in front of her lips, answers, “organic, homegrown blueberries.” 

“And a little Regina McVeigh magic.” Diane winks, sipping her tea with a smile at the chuckle she gains from the woman. 

“You flatter me.” 

“You deserve it.”

They share a smile, one that conveys a hundred words they don’t need to verbalise.

“Tell me, how has work been? Kurt’s told me that Stern has been dishing it out on you.” Regina glances to Kurt, who’s holding his mug halfway between his lips and the table. 

The question, however, doesn’t seem to affect Diane in any way; instead, she happily answers. “Well, I wouldn’t say that,” and there’s the glance in her husband’s direction, not quite condescending, but it's easy to identify the look of _caught you_ that appears, then just as quickly disappears, from her eyes. “We’re in the middle of merging with another firm, so we’re a little up the walls, but it’s good. Keeps me on my toes.” 

“As long as you’re enjoying it.” 

“I am,” Diane beams. “That reminds me, our firm is having a small party to celebrate the merger if it goes well, and I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind baking this.” 

The idea lights up Regina’s brown eyes and she pauses in her eating, washes it down quickly with a sip of her tea. “Honey, I’ll make you any damn crumble you want, you just let me know.” She reaches over to pat Diane’s hand and then squeezes it, which causes the small grin on Diane’s face to grow a little wider; conveying her appreciation and gratitude. 

“Thank you, Regina.” 

“Don’t mention it. Now speaking of baking; once you’re ready let’s hit that market, that key lime pie won’t bake itself.” 

Sometime later they’re walking back to the house, having decided to travel the small journey into town on foot. Kurt lingers behind the two women, a bag of groceries in one hand, with the fingers of the other tightly clasping Justice's leash. He watches as they round a corner ahead of him and disappear and he assumes he'll be making the rest of the walk back with the panting dog near his feet until he spots the women standing still and admiring a large house leading off the road. He only sees it when he approaches them, the extensive row of pine trees and hedges secluding the beautiful property. A short gravel drive leads up to the front door. It's a two-story house, grey stone brick with two tall pillars framing the dark, oak wooden porch with a step leading up to it and the front door, framed by two thin, floor to ceiling, windows at either side. In front is a wide garden, completely hidden from any cars or anyone who passes by, and it extends all the way around the back. 

"It's beautiful." Diane comments, her eyes taking in the vast view in front of her. But what shocks her most on the whole property, is the for sale sign. "Nobody owns it?"

"Not for the last three years. People have come and looked, but no one ever went through with it. Either they couldn't handle our laid back countryside ways or it was too expensive." Regina tells her, more intrigued by Diane's curiosity than the property itself. 

"Why would anybody want to leave a home like that?"

"Nobody really did. After Mary, one of our life long neighbours, died a few years ago her husband couldn't handle living alone. He moved in with his daughter down in Florida and one's owned the property since." 

Standing there, her eyes fluttering over it, she loses herself to her thoughts. Thoughts of summer; with the sun beating down and a little boy, smothered in sunscreen wearing a little sunhat and shorts, laying on a hammock with her sitting beside it and pushing it in gentle motions. Or a winter’s day, with a little girl with fair brown hair tied back in a ponytail, squished down by her beanie, her coat almost swallowing her up as she fires snowballs at her father and makes snow angels, rather than being in school, while she watches from the porch, leaning up against one of those pillars and wrapped up in one of Kurt’s coats, sipping coffee and trying to prevent her fingers from numbing. 

“Hey,” he calls softly, bringing her back to him in an instant. 

She looks away from the house and meets his eyes. “Hmm?” 

He casts a glance to his mother, who takes the grocery bag and Justice from him, before backstepping and giving them a moment. Diane shakes her head, her eyes rolling before returning to the house. In the corner of her eyes, she can see Regina's figure grow smaller until she disappears completely around a nearby bend. The gravel grinds beneath Kurt's boots and draws her attention to his looming presence behind her. 

“You okay?” He asks, stepping towards her, his voice full of caution. 

“I'm fine.” She forces a smile, intending to carry on her walking until Kurt grasps her arm and stops her. “Kurt–“

“Hey, talk to me, we made an agreement that we wouldn't suffer in silence because of what happened,” he tries to console her, only for her to shake her head. 

“I’m just surprised nobody has bought it yet.” She dismisses his words, her hand prying his off her arm. “It's the perfect house for a family.” 

Her words make him frown and he watches as she steps towards the house again, her arms crossing in front of her chest. Inhaling deeply, her shoulders tense, until his arms wrap around her from behind and slowly coax her to relax. They stand there, her taking the strength he is providing her, with nothing but the wind whistling by and the house mentally projecting various scenarios right in front of them. There will always be that little heartbreak because of the loss they experienced years ago, especially when it comes around to the day it happened. If they weren't so in love, weren't so stubborn and unwilling to give up, they would have undoubtedly have gone their own ways for some time, possibly separated. Instead, the reached for one another, used and relied on each other to get through it, to accept it and move on. They moved into a smaller apartment, easier for them both to go about their lives in and pursued their careers, giving up hope for family life. 

Yet sometimes, the emotions come back, or she'll imagine what could have been, and while he too experiences the rare thoughts, they've always been strong enough to pull one another through, always been one another's anchor. Now, it's rare for either to really lose themselves to these imaginations, having moved on and decided to leave the past in the past. 

"They still have the room," Her voice is thin and low and he can almost hear her swallow, trying to contain the emotion from creeping into her words. 

"Does it bother you?" He tries looking at her, but her eyes remain on the house.

"No, I just don't know why they still have a baby room when there's no baby." She steps forward, out of his hold, and turns around. "Come on, let’s not keep Regina from waiting.”

Diane glances at him for a moment, her blue eyes clear of any sorrow, and only full of life, once again. He doesn't understand how she can do it sometimes, convey one thing with her words, mean something else with her eyes or hide how she feels with those blue orbs of hers. 

“Di,” he calls, his voice unusually shy and soft, which only stops her after a single step and has her facing him again. 

Seeing her look quite unfazed as if she wasn’t just torturing herself about possibilities that could have been theirs if life didn’t intervene, makes him worry for a moment, fearing that she may be harbouring these thoughts and silently suffering. But after so many years, so many trials and challenges they’ve overcome together, he knows just by looking at her that she is in fact unfazed, allowing things to surface but to also disintegrate into a memory, growing less painful over time. 

“What?” She gazes up at him, a line of concern creasing her forehead, eyes fluttering across his face before settling on his eyes. 

He’s not here to pick an argument, he’s not wanting to cause tension between them or to stir up emotions. So instead, a small smile, genuine and heartfelt, begins to curl up his lips. Her own expression mirrors his, mostly out of confusion.

“Kurt, what?” She repeats, a small, soft, almost imperceptible laugh coming from her.

“Did you really call her Gina?” 

“I... no.” She thinks for a moment, but the idea of her using such an unfamiliar reference to the woman only makes her shake her head and glance in the direction the woman has disappeared in.

“Well, she’s adamant you did.” 

Her nose scrunches up in confusion, her eyes drifting over his shoulder as she tries to delve deeper into her memories. 

“Maybe I did, but I don’t remember.” She shrugs, about to let it go until the teasing smirk beneath his moustache catches her eye. “Are you ever going to call my mother Lily?” She counters, an eyebrow bouncing up sharply and she folds her arms on her chest. 

“Point taken.” He gives in, his head bobbing to the side before he presses a chaste kiss to her lips. “Now as you said, let’s go before she gets surly.” 

His hand on her arm slides down to grasp her hand, and with a tilt of his head, he inclines her to walk alongside him. Yet she can’t resist looking over her shoulder once again. This time, there are no visions. There’s no little girl making snow angels, there’s no little boy with sunscreen all over his face. There’s no swing-set, no hammock, no soccer ball untouched in the garden. This time, it’s just the house, tall and empty and secluded by trees.

When she looks to Kurt again, her lips twitch into a small smile on their own accord and her hand raises his and curls it around her shoulders, allowing her to burrow closer to him. Her hand slides into his back pocket, a habit of hers that never fails to grab his attention, one that always gains her a smirk, and she realises, once again, that no matter what could have been, no matter what path their lives have taken, they’ll always have a family, a home, in each other, and that’s all that truly matters. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reference to 3x02 of The Good Fight. Another shoutout to my amazing beta and friend for all her help with this.

The blankets are heavy on her legs as she shifts around beneath them, slowly waking from the peaceful slumber she lost herself to hours ago. She listens closely, trying to figure out what has woken her, and then realises that there’s someone else in the house, their voice hushed in conversation with Kurt’s, saying their farewells right before Kurt closes the front door and locks it. 

She pushes her pillow down with the hand resting on it and looks to the clock, squinting in the darkness. It’s late, half-past midnight late, and she finds herself frowning that he hasn’t been to bed yet; his side still untouched, bar a few wrinkles of the sheets caused by her unconscious moving. More so, she frowns at the fact they’ve had a visitor without her realising. Rolling over, she waits for him to enter the bedroom, the door opened slightly and allowing a thin strip of gold to cut into the darkness and line the floor. Only for him to walk straight past the room, the floorboards creaking softly beneath each step, his shadow blocking the light for the split second it takes him to walk by. She can hear him return to the den and with a small sigh, she throws the blankets off, scoops her bathrobe up from the chair at the end of the bed, and shrugs it on as she makes her way through the apartment. 

The moment she steps into the hall she squints, her eyes thinning as she readjusts to the brightness, and she can immediately feel the beginning of a dull headache behind her left eye. She curls her fingers around the barely open door to her home office and peeps in, finding him sitting on the small chair. From her position, she can’t see what he’s doing, but she can tell he won’t be moving anytime soon. 

“Kurt, why haven’t you been to bed yet?” Diane asks softly, her voice low as to not spook him, and she steps further into the room. 

Nevertheless, she does startle him, and he turns to look at her. A small, apologetic smile meets him and when she reaches him she sees he’s holding a letter, an all too familiar letter, with an all too formal address of his name. But this time that gut-wrenching stamp on the top corner is absent and realises this letter was delivered personally. Her stomach sinks, and his silence only makes her nauseous suspicions increase. He’s only been home for a few weeks, and the mere thought of him being sent to serve somewhere else again, already and so soon, sends a flurry of emotions through her. 

“Kurt,” her voice has dropped to a whisper, her eyes no longer possessing sleep and curiosity, but dread. 

She knows he can’t control it, can’t decide when he gets to go and how long he gets to stay, but she’s been hoping he would be given the chance to simply live too, for them to be given the opportunity to spend time together. They’ve had nights like this, coming to terms with another one of his duties, learning to accept they’ll be apart for so long, and the unbearable truth that there could come a time he may not come home again.

He tosses the envelope to the table in front of him and her eyes subconsciously follow it. He’s still looking up at her, and rather than talk, he inclines his head and she immediately closes the small distance between her and the table, her fingers grasping the thin paper as she sits across from him. 

While she tears the envelope open, all sense and style of grace disappearing, he shifts to the edge of the chair, legs parted with his hands clasped and hanging between them, his back at a straight slant as he watches her eyes flicker over each and every word; pacing left then right in a hurry. When her eyes return to his, there’s a look of confusion in them, her eyes still cloudy with the worry that’s making her quiver slightly, and before she can question, a small smile curves his lips. 

“I resigned,” he begins, head tilting as if it’ll get the words through. She remains sitting there in silence. “From the military.” 

“Y... you resigned?” She repeats, her confusion increasing and making him shake his head. 

Maybe it’s too late to have such a conversation. Perhaps she’s still rattled at the appearance of the envelope. But he knows she won’t let it go until tomorrow, no matter what he suggests. 

“I did.” 

“So... what now?” She asks, gazing at him for a moment before shifting her attention to the paper in her hand. 

She’s still focusing on him as she folds the letter and slips it back into the envelope. He takes it from her and stands up, silently making his way to the desk and drops it there, then turns to look at her. There’s so much hope in her eyes, her hands clasped together and resting on her knees, her head tilted back as she gazes across the room at him, almost like a puppy. Hope’s a private, fragile thing, Diane thinks, easily extinguished by others and before he begins to explain she wills away the urge to get ahead of herself. 

Lips pursed, hands on his hips, he sits on the edge of the desk. Slowly, but confidently, the words sound from him. “We got a job.” 

Finally, her first real reaction comes, in the form of her lips stretching into a smile. It doesn’t last long, however, for a glaze of worry fogs her eyes again. Even in the dim lighting of the den, with the light illuminating the gold of her hair and catching in the corner of her eyes like two tiny, distant stars, he can still see her moving slightly; not necessarily shaking, but her leg rocks a little; her foot on its ball and causing the nerves along her leg to go haywire, similar to those all over her body.

“What?” She utters, impatience radiating from her. 

She’s on her feet in the blink of an eye and makes her way to him in a few small, scurried steps. 

“Ballistics.” 

“Meaning you get to stay here?” Diane continues, the excitement and happiness bubbling through her voice and she reaches out, her small hands grasping his inner forearms.

“There’s some travelling involved, but it’s up to me when I go. I’ll stick to cases here as often as I can, but occasionally there’ll be travelling.” 

“As long as I see you more than one month a year, I’m a happy woman.” She tells him while bringing her hands from his arms to his face and cups it, her lips finding his for a gentle kiss. 

He smirks into her display of affection, his lips pushing out to return it for the brief second it lasts. Hands on her sides, his fingers curling around the woolly fabric of her bathrobe, he pulls her a little closer until she’s almost leaning on him, then pulls back, ending their kiss with a chaste kiss to her lower lip. 

“You’re up early tomorrow, we should get some rest.”

“Are you kidding me?” She pushes his arm gently, “I don’t care if I have to live off coffee tomorrow, this is more important.”

“Di,” he raises an eyebrow, but she won’t have it, instead she ignores him and grabs his hand, dragging him across the room. 

Hand still grasping his, Diane eases into the corner of the small couch and waits until he sits beside her before scooting closer, her arm extending around him to rest her hand on his shoulder, her legs tucked up beneath her, with one knee resting on his thigh, peeping out from beneath her robe. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were resigning?” She asks, her chin finding a place on his shoulder. 

“I was worried I’d get your hopes up.”

“Never.” She mumbles, first pressing her lips to his jaw, then presses her forehead against it, and she bends her arm to tangle her fingers in his hair. 

The soothing ministrations incline him to drop his head back into her touch, his eyes closing at the calming gestures. They sit there for a peaceful moment in silence, his hand curling around her knee and pulling her leg across him to trail his fingertips up and down the back of her calf. A hum, hoarse and deep within her throat, tells him she’s already dreaming, already fantasising and imagining. No more fretting, no more waiting in agony for a letter to arrive, no more wishing he’ll be home soon. It’s like a world, a weighty, worrisome one, has been lifted from her shoulders, now giving her a chance to breathe. 

Her hand slips from his hair and falls to his shoulder, the inside crook of her elbow curving around his neck, with her fingers toying with the button of his shirt. “So how did this come about?” 

Head resting on her arm, he opens his eyes to her, finding hers roaming his face. “Mentioned it to RD at the gun range.”

When her eyes settle on his again, he’s certain he can see them twinkle. “You really don’t have to serve anymore?” Diane asks, mouth shaped into a smile, her voice low, but her tone high-pitched, expressing both the excitement pulsating through her and the exhaustion she’s warding off to celebrate this, to appreciate him. 

“Never again.” He responds with a subtle bob of his head, lips twitched into a smile, hidden by his moustache to most, but so blatantly obvious to her. 

“Do you know how scared I was, thinking that letter was about you going off to serve again?” She admits, her voice dipping so low, hovering just above a whisper, that it makes his eyebrows furrow. 

“But it’s not.” The words come out as his hand comes to a slow stop on her leg, eyes narrowed slightly to see her face, shadows cast across it.

He can see her draw her lips into her mouth, hold them there for a moment, then release them, only to sink her teeth into her bottom lip. It comes to him, that she was quite unprepared to have gotten that kind of letter again so soon, and he realises that he should have made some mention of it to her, that he’d be expecting one. 

“I should’ve told you.”

“No, no what you did was right,” Diane assures, her hand breaking free from his and pressing to his chest. “What if it didn’t work out, how would you have told me then, hmm?” 

He tilts his head to the side in response, agreeing in silence, and he offers her a look of appreciation, glad that she understands. 

“Maybe you’ll see more of me in court now,” he moves away from the seriousness of the conversation, hoping a tease will take away the heaviness. 

“You are the worst witness.” 

His mouth opens, a small protest coming from him, but she refuses to let him argue, her finger extending to point at him.

“Oh don’t look at me like that, you know what I’m referring to.”

“I was thirty.”

“I was twenty-five. Age doesn’t make a difference here.”

“Alright then, it was my first time ever sitting in a witness box.” 

“It was only my third time arguing in court.” 

“Yet you were prancing around like you were about to retire.” 

“My father was a law professor, I had a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“Including seducing one of your witnesses?” 

She smacks his arm gently, making him shift around to look at her, a feigned look of surprise on his face. She has to strain to keep from laughing, but her lips still curve into a smile.

“Hey, I suggested we go for a drink when the trial was over.  _ You _ seduced  _ me _ .” 

“No, I  _ kissed _ you. The seducing came weeks after.” 

“And who seduced who, all those weeks later?” 

She’s grinning now, and coyly watching him, as if he’s about to walk into a trap. She’s edged closer, her knee across him pressed into his hip, her fingers curled around the collar of his shirt, the fingers of her other hand dipped beneath the soft cotton to stroke across the skin of his chest. 

With his head angled back, he eyes her, a small smirk of smugness on his lips. Each second of silence that passes only causes the tension between them to crackle; ready to ignite that electrifying spark between them. Her knee against his hip presses in, making his lower half shift deeper into the couch, his hand bunching the front of her robe to pull her to him. 

“Well?” She coos, her body gravitating towards his, their faces mere centimetres apart. 

Her lips flick out to wipe her lips, the move immediately drawing his attention to her mouth, and then slowly back to her eyes. She bounces her eyebrows, her eyes almost shrugging as she waits, wanting so desperately to press her lips to his and end this thirst she has, but also wanting to hear his response. 

Her eyes shut when she feels his hand against her side, having snuck beneath the bathrobe, his touch heating her skin despite the barrier of her pyjama top. His thumb strokes across her body, beneath the curve of her breast and her head falls forward at the habitual ministration. 

The smirk of smugness has morphed into one of glee, his eyes almost hanging with attraction and desire as they survey her; short golden locks hanging, her eyes closed in rapture of mere feeling. With an insistent press of his hand to her, she shifts closer and he guides her to him until she’s resting on his lap, her legs meeting at his side, arms around his neck with one back in his hair. 

Her forehead presses to his cheek and he purses his lips, kissing the skin within his reach until she snaps her head back, sending her hair flipping and then falling back into place. Her hand in his hair trails down his face to cup his cheek, and with another eyebrow bounce and a definite eye shrug, she leans in, closing the tiny gap between them, and presses her lips to his. 

His hands tighten their grips, one still snug on her side inside the robe while the other rests on her hip. Despite the air, so full of electricity that if it were tangible, it would be possible to electrocute with, the kiss is gentle, tame and slow. Timed and inquisitive, as if exploring for the first time. 

Her thumb presses into the corner of his lips, pulling his cheek back as she breaks away from him. He tries following but she moves away too soon, so he opens his eyes to see what’s made her do so, only to find her waiting for him, blue eyes grinning, dancing with the streaks of light and flames of lust. 

“For the record,” Diane begins, voice rough like gravel, a sound only he’s ever been able to generate, “you seduced me with that first kiss. You just put me out of my longing that first night.” 

Before he can answer, her lips find his again and his response comes in the form of a loud groan, his hand on her hip pulling her to him while his hand on her side moves to pull one leg over his, resulting in her straddling him. Her tongue swipes swiftly against his lip, teasing him, prompting another desperate groan, until his hands curls around the backs of her upper thighs, beneath the curves of her rear. 

Before she knows it he’s standing, holding her up with her legs coming to link behind him. It’s in moments like this that she sometimes doesn’t really mind being hoisted up and carried back to bed. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies this took so long to update. I’ve finally concluded how many chapters this fic will be, and I’ve updated the tags so do take a look at those too, please.

Diane sits comfortably, legs crossed beneath the oak table of the conference room. To her left sits Howard Lyman, slouched a little too snugly in his seat, and Stern sits to her right; back rigid and hands clasped on the desk. Across from her sits their possible future partners, Adam Beckett, Charles Harper, and a young man in comparison to the two seniors, William Gardner. 

Her eyes flicker between Stern, who’s taken the lead on their side of the negotiations, and the men that take the time to respond and express their own concerns and demands. However, her attention begins to drift more to the queasy feeling beginning to bubble deep down in her stomach. She presses her lips together, her teeth clenching inside her mouth and she swallows forcefully. It’s almost like licking chalk; the insides of her cheeks suddenly going dry and subconsciously her hand skitters from the arm of the chair to her stomach, as if it will ease her discomfort. Her mind travels back, the voices around her disappearing, and she recalls what she had for lunch a little over an hour ago; a simple salad with some chicken. 

A sudden catch of breath in her throat brings her closed fist to her lips, blocking the soft sound just in time until a heave has her coughing loudly, resulting in all attention shifting her way. Her hands immediately push the chair back, her legs shaky as she stands. 

Breathily and hushed, Diane utters out, “Excuse me,” and rushes from the room. 

Her walk to her office is torturous, and she ends up running by the time she’s halfway down the hall before bursting through the door of her office and into her private bathroom. Her body works on its own accord from there, pulling her to the toilet as if she’s a magnet near metal. 

A grouchy, hoarse groan echoes through the tiled bathroom, not even dulled by the sound of the flushing toilet, as Diane falls onto her side, her back hitting the wall roughly, but not enough to take away the miserable itch of her throat and flipping of her stomach. With one arm resting over her heaving abdomen, she uses the other to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand. Beads of sweat begin to line her forehead and from simply looking at the smudged rouge lipstick on her hand, she can already tell her efforts on her makeup this morning have gone to a complete waste. 

She closes her eyes, her breathing loud and ragged, and she allows herself to go limp as she composes herself. A knock on the hollow wooden door makes her fur her eyebrows, and she frowns, her tongue slipping out to wipe her dry lips and circling inside her mouth. She hesitates knowing she, undoubtedly, looks like a mess, and is certainly not presentable before she calls out, inviting whoever it is inside, grudgingly allowing them to see her in such disarray. 

The door creaks open slowly and she opens her eyes at the sound. The first thing she notices is the glass of water, then her eyes move up the arm until they settle on his face as he stands there, unusually shy despite his smug appearance she’s come to know. 

“I thought you could use this.” 

A small scoff escapes her as she attempts an appreciative smile in his direction. 

“Thank you.” She sighs, hoping to muster the strength she needs to haul herself up from the floor, but instead, Will sets the glass of water to the countertop beside the sink and approaches her, his arms extended. 

She doesn’t hesitate and she plants her hands in his, allowing him to pull her to her feet, the simple move enough to make her head spin. Will leans to the side and puts down the toilet seat, then gestures for her to sit. Diane watches as he turns to retrieve the glass of water again to offer it to her. She takes it with a low “thank you,” and brings it to her lips, timidly sipping it. 

There’s a tense silence between them, neither knowing what to say under the circumstances. It’s certainly not the way Diane expected to get to know her future partner, yet she realises if anything can be useful in this awkward moment, it’s that maybe it’s exactly what she needs to get to know him. After all, they’re about to become partners and having someone on her side when it comes to Stern could be quite beneficial. 

“I hope you didn’t hear much,” Diane says after a long moment and avoids his gaze by sipping from the glass again. 

“I could see you go pale during the meeting.” Will shrugs, a small sympathetic smile forming on his lips. 

In truth, he has heard quite enough retching to last him a lifetime, but he’ll save her the embarrassment and preserve her dignity. She can feel him scrutinise her and it makes her stomach sink, again, and she has to close her eyes and hope that she can ward off her sudden nausea. 

“So the merger, huh?” Diane grumbles, trying to make this situation a little less awkward than it is. 

It’s palpable, their unease. Hers being the fact that at any moment her body could choose to lose her lunch again (or even her breakfast this time) and his being that this happens to be their first real meeting. They’ve barely spoken, maybe shared a few simple words or answered one another’s queries, but nothing much. Him bringing her a glass of water, unnecessarily and unprovoked, already gives her a positive view on his character, and she realises that his smug aura may be one to do with his appearance. But deep down, he’s truly just someone making their way in the legal world, with a passion for the law and someone, one of the rare ones, who wants to make a change for a better world. 

“Who knew they would be so hesitant after all the time they spent planning for it.” 

“Your guys are just afraid they won’t have the first name anymore.” 

He laughs at that, looking away for a moment but quickly settling his eyes on her again. Her hair is tousled, with some clung to the sides of her forehead, and dark circles are slowly becoming noticeable beneath her eyes. Above all, she’s a striking woman, and even in such an event of disarray and chaos, she still appears quite elegant and well put together. 

“You know you shouldn’t be here. If this is a bug, you’re going to catch it.” Diane meets his eyes, her blue orbs stinging a little as she strains to keep them open widely, the bathroom light suddenly too bright. 

Her shoulders curve inwards in exhaustion, her head heavy on her neck and she rests the glass on her leg. Her words don’t seem to affect him. She knows many men she would simply have to mention _bug_ to before they’d take measures to quarantine her, but not him. He baffles her a little, the way he plays up the whole heartbreaker, smug act, when he really seems like someone who she could sit with over a drink and mull about a bad day or revel in a good one. 

“Might’ve been something you ate and it didn’t agree with you.” 

“A simple chicken salad usually doesn’t hurt anybody.” 

“Depends on the chicken.” 

Diane squints a little. “You think it’s food poisoning?” 

“Could be.” Will turns a hand up towards the ceiling, then drops it to his side again. 

“But it wouldn’t be that effective, it’s only been an hour, two at most.” 

“What did you eat yesterday?”

“Not much, I didn’t have an appetite.” 

He frowns at that, his head tilting to the side. Still, with the high possibility she’s carrying a contagious bug, he doesn’t move away. 

“Have you consid—“ Will’s words come to a pause at the sound of a high pitch ring echoing from the office behind him and he follows her gaze over his shoulder. “Do you need that?” 

She’s about to decline, but instead she trades the glass to her other hand and glances at her watch. Looking up at him, she nods her head and watches as he makes his way to her desk. Diane rises to her feet and places the glass to the countertop beside the sink, purposely avoiding her reflection in the mirror. 

Will re-enters the bathroom with his arm extended, offering her the buzzing device. She accepts it with a meaningful look in his direction and he responds with a small, almost polite twitch of his lips. Eyes still on him as he departs from her office, Diane swallows loudly again and pushes out his name in an exhale. 

“William,” She calls, causing him to turn around. “Thank you.” 

He nods once, his lips nearly forming a thoughtful pout. “After this, I think you can call me Will.” 

A simple grin shapes her lips. “Then, thank you, Will.” 

A playful smile mirrors hers and with his hands sliding into his trouser pockets, those cocky manners of his slide back into place. “No problem.” 

The vibrating of her phone, along with its frantic ringing, immediately consumes her attention the moment Will disappears and she clears her throat before accepting the call. Standing in front of the sink with one hand clutching onto it, she looks into the mirror to survey herself, finding every possible flaw with her appearance. Her eyes are sunken in a little; her fatigue evident, and her lipstick is smudged across one side of her mouth where she’s wiped it. A rush of embarrassment spreads through her, making her groan before she answers the phone. 

“Hey you.”

“Hey.”

“How’s your first case going?“ Diane asks, her hand that’s been clutching onto the sink raising to press to her lips, her eyes closing as she silently wills away another bout of nausea. 

“So far, he’s still innocent.” Kurt answers, the words uttered out and unusually low, which makes her tilt her head closer to the phone as if it’ll help. 

When he mentioned his terms as an expert, she was rather surprised when he revealed he’ll only be representing those he believes are innocent, unless proven guilty mid-trial. While she teased him about it at first, now, she finds it quite admirable.

“Where are you? You’re speaking very low.” 

“The courthouse, should be outside soon.” 

She lets out a hum of surprise and takes another sip from her water, one to merely wet the inside of her parched mouth, hoping it’ll get rid of the chalky feeling still lingering there. 

“Hear me now?” Kurt asks after a moment, his words louder and much more clearer. 

“Yes. So tell me about—“ before she can complete her question, she has to tear the phone away again and sends it hurtling to the counter beside the sink with a loud clatter, her hand cupping over her mouth until she reaches the toilet again. 

Vaguely, over the sound of her heaving, she can hear the confused and worried tone of her husband coming from her phone. She lowers herself to her knees, once again gripping the toilet for dear life, until the violent waves subside into gentler, empty ones. A moan of despair escapes her and after flushing the toilet again, she crawls towards the counter, too drained to stand and opts to reach up for her phone instead. 

“What was that?” He questions, and if she wasn’t so exhausted and wiped out, she’d laugh at the absurdity. 

“That was your wife losing her lunch.” 

Hearing him swear on the other end of the line makes her smile a little, considering the terms are rarely expressed from her usually stoic, usually mannerly cowboy. 

“Are you okay?”

“Should be. As long as I stay away from chicken and vegetables.”

The words are merely ridiculing herself, yet she still throws a mental thought of disdain towards her choice of lunch, as if it will change anything. 

“Is it a bug?” He asks, and from the change in his tone she can tell he’s stopped walking, his words less breathy and rushed. 

Forcefully swallowing back the distaste in her mouth, she finds herself nodding to his words. “I think so. I heard one of our paralegals caught something earlier this week. Someone else thinks food poisoning but I doubt it.”

“You should go home, Diane. Get some rest.” 

She hesitates, knowing he’s right, and knowing that any other choice she makes will only make him worry. She closes her eyes and reminds herself of how she looks, hoping somehow it can convince her to change her mind. 

“I can’t, we’re deciding on the merger today.” 

“Diane, you’re sick.” 

“I’ll be done soon, and then I’ll take a few days off. I’ll call my doctor later to make an appointment and maybe he’ll give me something to deal with the nausea.”

“Why don’t I just come home? They can find another expert.” 

“Kurt, don’t even think about it. This is your first case as a ballistics expert, it’s important, and certainly more important than some bug I’ve caught.” 

The sense of authority in her voice surprises her, especially with how steady her words are and how weak she’s feeling, and they seem to have the effect she’s hoping for on her husband because his end of the line is silent for a painfully short moment. 

“You’ll call me if you need me?” He finally speaks up, and she frowns at the defeated sound in his voice. 

As glad as she is that he’s listened to her words, she’s guilty that she’s made him nervous, and there’s nothing more she wants right now other than to see him and reassure him that she’s going to be just fine.

“You know I will.” She reassures, silently letting out a heavy breath. “So how’s Austin? Find yourself a cowboy hat yet?” 

The tension between them quickly disappears and a smile, small but meaningful, shapes her lips, soon to bare her teeth as her smile grows at the low sound of his laughter. 

“Oh yeah. Bought a pair of chaps and spurs too.” 

A laugh bursts from her, bouncing against the walls of the enclosed space; almost like a drum, but she quickly brings a hand up to her mouth, fingers pressing over her lips. He assumes from her immediate silence that she’s either thrown her phone away or she’s about to, until she lets out a groan infused sigh. 

“Diane,” he sighs, his voice soft and she can hear the frown and concern in it. “You should be at home, resting, and I should be there with you.” 

“It’s only been a few days since you’ve been gone, Kurt. You can’t walk out on your first case because of this. Besides, if you do come home, you’re going to end up just like me and what good would it do if neither of us can take care of each other.” 

He hums in agreement, but the sound is more of a grunt, no words of protest now coming from him. If she wasn’t so against him coming home he’d be on the first flight back, but she’s right. This is his first case as a ballistics expert, and the time to lay the foundations of his reputation and give himself some leverage in the field, yet he’d rather nothing more than packing up and flying home. 

“How has court been?” She asks after some time, their silence becoming thick again, and she winces slightly, a strong stench of bleach suddenly hitting her nose. 

“You really wanna talk about court right now?” There’s a hint of disbelief in his words, and she can picture him raising his eyebrows as he speaks. 

“I’m a lawyer, dear. When do I never want to talk about court?”

He only grunts, accepting her question. If there’s one person he knows that will go about their day unfazed by the worst or least expected, it’s his wife. 

“They want me back in tomorrow, but there’s been talks of negotiations for a settlement, so I could be home by next week.” 

“It’s better than three weeks.” 

Kurt only sighs, causing Diane to close her eyes. She wants him here, so he can simply see she’s fine, that whatever this is will soon subside and she’ll be herself again in a few days. While he’s always been the calm one between them, always the laid back one who lets things happen as they’re meant to, she can sense the concern in him now. Her miscarriage changed them both, undoubtedly. He became more concerned in times he once wouldn’t have been, while she learned to take the time to have breakfast, not a bite of toast. Together, they’ve learned how to overcome devastating or unexpected hurdles without wobbling when they land. 

“I should go, Kurt. I need to make an attempt of making myself presentable again and walk out of here without retching at the smell of bleach.” 

He almost looks at the phone in confusion. “Bleach?”

“Yeah.” She grunts, pulling herself to her feet. 

Phone placed on the counter, she switches it to speaker while she scrutinises herself in the mirror again. Wetting her thumb beneath the tap, she wipes her mouth, hoping to clear the smudge of red along her jaw. 

“Is that supposed to happen?” 

The question makes her pause, questioning it herself. “It never happened before, but I haven’t been sick like this in years. Hypersensitivity, maybe? Something to do with my age.”

“Diane you’re thirty-five, not sixty-five.” 

“Yes, but still, I wasn’t this sick since...” Her words come to an abrupt stop and Kurt doesn’t need her to continue to know what she’s thinking about. 

“Maybe it is food poisoning.” Kurt opts to move on, rather than have them dwell on the past. 

“I’ll find out in a few days, I guess.” 

He mumbles some words of keeping him up to date, before concluding with, “I’ll call you tonight.”

“I’ll be waiting.” 

“Good. I’ll talk to ya soon. Love you.” 

A smile shapes her lips, all curious thoughts and nauseous feelings subsiding for the brief moment. “I love you.”

She can hear him hum as he pulls the phone from his ear, her smile remaining plastered on her face for a moment, until her eyes roll to her reflection again. With smudged lipstick, messed hair, deep set eyes with dark circular rings, and a crinkled blazer, Diane glares at herself, until a mutter of irritation, cut out halfway by her retching, escapes her as she gravitates back to the toilet. Again. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I’ve finally finished writing all the chapters to this story. There should be 3 epilogues at different stages of Baby McVeigh’s life. However, with real life taking up most of my attention I won’t be updating as frequently as I want. Hope everyone will enjoy what I have in store!

Cream coloured walls surrounded her, one wall displaying various flyers warning about the risks of different kind of illnesses, and anatomical posters design another wall. Across from her is an untidy desk, a name plate at the front, proudly expressing the office's resident under a simple _Dr. P. Collins_. A row of shelves stand behind it against the wall; each shelf housing various medical instruments and office supplies, needles, paper and staples are easy to notice, the rest of the organised columns are hidden by the empty black leather chair across from her. 

With one glance to her watch, Diane learns her appointment is ten minutes overdue, causing her impatience to grow, her ankle rolling and a sigh of irritation leaving her lips. She's never been the patient one. It's always been Kurt who keeps her calm, even at peak restlessness, and now without him here she can't help but shift in her seat every so often, trying to get comfortable on the uncomfortable plastic that likes to creak with her every move, almost moaning in protest to her fidgeting. 

It was the same on the drive here, her thumb consistently scraping against the leather of the steering wheel, her mind too preoccupied with her thoughts she didn't realise the radio was on until she parked the car outside. Maybe it isn't impatience that's oozing from her today, but unease, considering she's getting back the results of her bloodwork and finding out the reason she's suddenly been unable to tolerate most of the foods she's lived off for the majority of her life. She's had suspicions, the very thoughts most likely the main cause of her nervousness.

_“Kurt McVeigh!” She exclaims in a breath as she opens her eyes, a dreamy smile of her lipstick smudged lips as he reappears from beneath the blankets, a lopsided smirk on his lips. _

_He hums out his response when his lips graze hers, lazily kissing her while settling over her; her leg coming to wrap around the back of his thigh. His kiss shifts across her flushed skin to her jaw and Kurt rolls over, dragging her leg with him. He lays there, breathing in deeply and watches as his wife rolls onto her side, her head propped up on her arm, her leg locked around his hip. _

_“How is it you get better at that every single time?” She asks as she leans forward again, the words deteriorating to a murmur as she swipes her lips across his. _

_A cheeky simper greets her when she opens her eyes. “Practice.” He drawls, which draws a rumble of deep, raspy laughter from her. _

_“Oh.” She bounces her eyebrows and using her leg, pulls herself closer to his body until her skin is once again pressed against his. _

_She trails her fingertip down the centre of his chest, her eyes following the digit as it reaches his naval. His hand beneath the covers, resting on her knee, slides up her thigh and just as she looks up to meet his gaze his hand sinks into her hair and pulls her face to his again. _

So lost in her daze with her blue eyes locked absently on a poster about sprains, fractures and bone breaks, a breathless, rushed voice snaps her from her reverie. 

"Diane, sorry to keep you waiting." 

By the time she glances over her shoulder the man is already plopping down into his leather chair, the sudden force making it squeak as it rolls back slightly. He's a tall man, with almost completely greyish-white hair that was once a boastful jet black, and he dons a pair of small, square-shaped glasses that sit on is nose. His voice is deep and rough, projected more with each rushed word that comes from his mouth. 

She feigns a smile, and her politeness. "No problem. Ha-" she coughs, a hand flying to her mouth as she clears her throat, and she wills away the urge to ask her question, have you got my blood results, and compensates with, "How have you been?" 

A breath is pushed from the man's nose, his lips tight together as he looks through a pile of folders on his desk. The question catches him off guard, clearly one he's not used to, and a hint of a smile shape's the elderly man's mouth. It only makes Diane more nauseous than she feels, this feigned interest she has, but at least today seems to be a kinder day than the past few she's had and if makes her feel a little more confident that she won't be running to any bathrooms soon. 

"Very well, Diane. How have you been doing?" He asks, sighing as he pulls out a file and drops it in front of him.

A small hum comes from her, the sound more of a hoarse groan lodged in her throat and it makes him smile. There is no real answer for that question, aside from the obvious misery a bout of uncontrollable vomitting would bring. However, the laid back manners and the sound of the breathy laughter gives her a peace of mind for a moment, considering he has no urgency to tell her if there is something seriously wrong. 

She mentally backtracks over the past few days, thinking of how she spent most hours of the night running back and forth to the bathroom while she caught up on sleep that day. "The Benadryl haven't been helping much."

The snort that comes from him, however low it is, catches her immediate attention and she loses that bubbly, relaxed aura again, her shoulders tensing subconciously. 

"I'm afraid they won't be. Diane, the lab results came back," He begins, his eyes alternating between hers and the file he's flipping open. "You're six weeks pregnant." The pause he gives her to let the news sink in barely lasts, and before she can utter a word Dr. Collins continues, unfazed by her doe-eyed expression. "I would advise you start taking Diclectin. It will help with the morning sickness and is a safer alternative to other anti-nausea medication. But of course that's purely up to you."

"I'm sorry, did you say six?" The words seep out of her in such a low voice it takes a moment for her to realise it's her speaking, the words still ricocheting around her mind. 

"That's right." Dr. Collins nods, the words stressed and slow, his gaze cautious. "Now, I know there were complications several years ago, but it doesn't necessarily mean it will happen again." 

"Can it happen again?" She utters, the end of her sentence catching in her throat and making her swallow. Her tongue slips out to wet her suddenly dry lips, her throat tightening by the second, the bones of her neck becoming more prominent for the split second it lasts. 

A sympathetic look crosses his face, and that's enough of an answer for Diane. Her eyes slide closed, and the low murmur of words that answer her concerns makes her press her tongue against the back of her teeth, withholding anymore questions while her voice temporarily weakens. 

“Your miscarriage happened quite early on.”

“Right before the twelve week scan.”

“There’s not much time between then and how far along you are now.” 

Her eyes open at that, her blue orbs piercing his with an almost accusing glare. “Meaning?” 

“Meaning we should monitor this closely. Your mother also suffered several miscarriages, Diane, there is the possibility it’s hereditary.” 

“So if I lose this baby too, it’s because of my genetics?” There’s a look of disbelief on her face, despite the fact he’s just confirmed one of the suspicions that’s been on her mind ever since that painful day all those years ago. 

“_Diane? Diane can you hear me?” _

_She groans, the sound barely perceptible, her throat dry and itchy and her head pounding. When she opens her eyes it’s blurry, the pale blue ceiling disfigured and making her eyes roll closed again. _

_To her left is a feminine, familiar voice, one that confuses her with its presence for a moment, and it coos her into looking in its direction. _

_“Wh– where’s Kurt?” Diane utters, her eyes circling the room, avoiding the intense gaze of her mother’s eyes. _

_“He’s outside talking to the doctor,” Lillian reassures, her hand brushing up and down Diane’s forearm, then tensing and holding it to the bed the moment she sees her daughter move to sit up. “No, Diane don’t.”_

_The harsh utterance makes her stop, a confused look being offered to her mother as she sinks back into the hard mattress of the hospital bed. _

“_Diane, listen to me,” that feminine voice suddenly grows softer, and Diane can only blink herself out of her dazed state, until she suddenly snaps to her senses, a hand reaching to her stomach beneath the thin blanket. _

_The move makes Lillian frown, the fearful look suddenly flashing in her daughter’s eyes enough to make her own eyes tear up. _

_“Please, please, please,” Diane’s voice drops to a whisper, her voice strained, her throat constricting as tears behind to pool in her blue eyes. _

_“I’m so sorry, darling.” _

_Her head falls back to the pillow, her eyes closing, trapping the burning tears behind them until there’s too much to withhold, causing them to slide down her temples, some trickling into her hair, others wetting her ears, and she silently heaves, her fingers flexing over her stomach, her other arm pulling away from Lillian’s touch so she can wipe her nose with the back of her hand. _

_“Can you,” a small hiccup escapes her, her voice catching as she tries to keep a sob from escaping. “Can you get Kurt, please?”_

_Lillian sits in silence, an audible, empathetic sigh escaping her and she rises to her feet. “Of course I can.” _

_Rather than watch her mother leave and her husband arrive, she keeps her eyes shut and tries to steady her breathing. The moment the door clicks and she’s left alone, she brings a hand to her mouth and cups it, finally letting out a loud, muffled sob. _

“It’s possible. Why don’t you and Kurt come by again, say Friday morning around ten, and together we can arrange a plan to monitor the pregnancy?” 

Diane nods in silence, her head moving vaguely, and she tries to swallow back the nerves edging into her voice, making it shake. Heaven knows, she can’t bear to lose another baby, not after what they went through four years ago. Not after they’ve come so far, become so content with their lives and themselves, having left that idea in the past, accepted it would never happen and moved on. She’s devoted her maternal instincts to her Goddaughter; a small, red headed little girl who tends to enjoy sitting on her hip a little too much. 

“Friday sounds good,” she finally verbally replies, “we’ll both be here.” 

Dr. Collins leans back in his seat, his hands clasping in front of him and he studies Diane for a moment, her own eyes fierce as they lock on his. He’s been her doctor for as long as she can remember; he’s watched her grow up, first visiting with her mother for check-ups or when she had a persistent cough or cold. If there’s anyone she can trust confidently when it comes to this, it would definitely be him. 

She opens her mouth, about to speak only to stop herself, a gasp coming out instead. But the reassuring incline of his head draws the words from her. 

“Peter, if we get past twelve weeks this time, does it guarantee anything?” There’s a shyness to her voice, a rare timidness, reserved for very few people and very few occasions.

The question has him rising to his feet and stepping around the desk to sit back against it. Arms crossed in front of him, he looks down at the young woman waiting for an answer that will give her some sense of hope. Inhaling deeply, his eyes flutter around the room before settling on hers again. 

“Not necessarily. But Diane, just because you had one miscarriage doesn’t mean every time will be the same. I know Lillian was less fortunate, but she had you. Think of that.” 

The words seem to give her a peace of mind yet make her worry even more all at once. A mix of emotions begin to flow through her, coursing through her veins. A small sigh escapes her and she drops her head to look at the floor, allowing the words to settle mentally, before she reaches down for her bag and curls her fingers around the leather. When she stands, her lips are pressed together firmly, her face almost expressionless yet full of emotion all at once. 

Deep in her eyes, they twinkle a little, with gratitude and hope. Her voice is low and smooth, the words short and simple. “Thank you.”

He nods with a slight smile, partially empathetic, partially encouraging, and he watches as Diane makes her way to the door. Outside, with the door closed behind her, she leans back against it and breathes out. She only takes a moment to collect herself, preferring to do it in the privacy of her own home, and with her bag hanging and bumping against her leg as she walks, Diane makes her way to the car. She falls into the car and sits there for many long, slow minutes, with no intention to move just yet, the news still so fresh and only truly sinking in now. 

Ever so slowly, she unbuttons her blazer, revealing a sleek gold blouse, and naturally, her hands find their way to cover her abdomen. Something pulsates through her, and it takes her a moment to realise that despite the fear and worry, beneath it all, there’s an uncontrollable race of joy, an uncontainable rush of happiness, an undeniable feeling of hope, taking over every fibre of her body. And despite the past, despite the possibilities and the risks, something deep down gives her a very good feeling about this. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T/W: there are mentions of miscarriage in this chapter, which are mostly highlighted in italics but some are also written in the present timeline of the chapter. 
> 
> I’ve borrowed some lines from various episodes for this chapter. I’ve really introduced their reactions to the miscarriage here, which are definitely not happy to say the least but I do hope in future chapters I’ll be able to bring that story to a full circle as the centre plot continues. 
> 
> Thank you all for being so patient with me!

It's late by the time Kurt steps in the front door. Most of the lights are switched off, aside from the subtle gold hue creeping out from beneath their bedroom door. He locks the door, hangs his coat on the rack beside him, then makes his way down the hall. Grasping the handle he pushes the door open, his eyes immediately going to their bed only for him to find it empty and made, still undisturbed. With a frown he steps in, listening closely for any sign she may be in the bathroom, but none comes. 

He drops his travel bag to the floor and after stepping out of his boots, finally catches sight of the lump on the couch, the view making him smile to himself as he approaches silently. Away in a peaceful slumber, Diane lays wrapped up in the warmth of his bathrobe, the oversized, dark navy cotton swallowing up her petite figure. There are several files on the coffee table in front of her, waiting for her attention and Kurt comes to a stop in front of her. Hands on his hips, Kurt watches her for a moment, taking in her relaxed posture, the synchronised rise and fall of her body as she breathes softly, and he wonders just how long she’s been asleep. 

Rather than wake her at such a late hour, he bends at the waist and pushes his hands into the cushions beneath her and just as he's about to lift her from the couch, a low groan comes from her and he pauses, waiting for her to settle again, only that the groggy sound of his name informs him he's failed his good intentions. 

“When did you get home?" Diane asks after a yawn, her eyes thin with sleep and she watches as he moves some papers out of the way to sit back on the table. 

"Just a few minutes ago." Kurt reaches out to brush a stray strand of hair behind her ear, the move subtly checking her temperature too, before he settles his hand on the cushion in front of her. 

She’s warm but not frighteningly so. He presumes the heat is from being bundled up in layers of cotton. He’s been worrying he’d come home to find her bent over the toilet, pale and clammy, shivering with a fever. Thankfully his concerns can be put to rest, seeing her looking rather healthy and over the worst of it. 

His eyes are drawn to her as she nods silently and folds her arm beneath her head. Despite her being healthy, he can see the exhaustion written all over her; from the struggle to even keep her eyes open to the way her body lays limply with no intention of moving. It looks like she simply fell to the couch and dozed off to sleep the moment her head hit the pillow. 

He’s been anxious ever since their phone call a few days ago and if she hadn’t been so adamant he stay on the case, he’d have been home that very day he first found out she wasn’t feeling well. Secretly studying her now, he can see she’s definitely not as pale as he anticipated, but the lack of make-up tells him she’s been slacking, and is most likely attempting to catch up with the work she’s missed over the past few days. 

"How are you feeling?" He asks after a moment of silence, his head tilting and his brown eyes meeting her blue pair as they're unveiled by a flutter of blinks. 

"I've been worse." Diane sighs, the raspiness of her voice wearing off and she pushes herself up to sit, her legs falling off the couch, her knee coming to press between his. 

Instinctively, Kurt reaches out to cover her leg with his hand, smoothing his palm over the soft cotton of his bathrobe. There's a look of concern so blatantly written on his face; his lips pulled down in a frown, his forehead lined, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes thinned slightly, creasing the delicate skin around them. 

"You saw the doctor today?” He prompts, his well-known patience decreasing unusually fast. Watching her nod, he waits a moment for her to speak, until it becomes clear she doesn't intend to just yet. "And?" 

"And..." She pauses to allow a shaky breath to escape her narrowly parted lips. Her throat is scratchy and she can’t be sure if it’s from sleep or reflux. “First I need a drink.”

“Bourbon?” 

“No!” A hand flies to her lips, her eyes wide, similar to his, and she swallows back the unexpected force that came with her words. “Just water, please.” 

He remains in place to scrutinise her curiously for a moment until he stands, his palm brushing over her cheek before falling to his side. There’s something off about her, something more than some flu would cause, but before he lets himself overthink and jump to conclusions he leaves the room. She listens as he goes, floorboards creaking gently and she lets out another sigh, deeper than the last, her stomach flipping for a completely different reason other than nausea this time. 

Never again did she anticipated she'll be saying these words, thinking these thoughts or awaiting his reaction to something as serious and life-changing as this. Not after what happened before. 

_"Hey.” His voice is soft, unusually soft when it meets her; hitting her like a cloud. _

_The greeting, more of a way to announce his presence, makes her hiccup as she tries to swallow back another sob, her body emotionally aching as she sits up against the pile of pillows behind her. Kurt bypasses the empty seat, sidestepping around it instead to reach her. Arms extended, he lets her fall sideways, her head hitting his chest. Her hand grasps his in her hair, holding her as a sob rattles through her body._

_"I got you." He murmurs, but his words are as clear as ice. _

_A simple sentence of three simple words, yet they tell her so much. A promise he's not going anywhere, that he's here and he'll hold her for as long as she needs, that he's going to give her all the strength and courage she cannot muster up herself. That he's going to pull her through this, no matter the cost. _

_A breathy heave against his chest is her response, causing his arms to tighten subconsciously, as if his touch can form a barrier between her heart and her pain, trying to protect her from what is hurting her the most, despite the fact it's caused from deep down inside of her. _

_"I'm not going anywhere." He continues, relieved to feel the slightest of nods against his chest and after pressing a gentle kiss to her hair, he rests his chin on her head, his hand stroking over her arm while the other holds onto her shoulders. _

When he returns to the bedroom he finds her standing by the window looking out at the twinkling city lights as they sparkle on the horizon. He stops and watches for a brief second, then purposely walks louder to announce his arrival. The sounds incline Diane to turn around and a small, grateful smile appears on her lips as she accepts the offered glass. 

Kurt steps back, resting against the back of the armchair with his arms at his sides, his eyes never moving from her as she cautiously sips her water. When she sets down the glass he can feel the concern bubble in his gut again and she turns to face him. His eyes are full of curiosity and worry as he waits, standing across from her and the moment her blue eyes flicker to his, there's a glimmer in them; of hope, of fear, of excitement, and of unease. Each conspire to spiral, her pupils enlarged in the dim lighting of the room, trying to swallow up as much light as possible. Her tongue slips out to wipe her lips and right now as she stands in front of him, still swamped in the armour of his bathrobe, the doubt, the consternation, the confliction she's been arguing with these past few days, it all disappears in a deep exhale. 

Before Kurt can ask, before he can worriedly confirm his own suspicions that something is wrong, he’s caught off guard when her lips part audibly and he finds her smiling slightly, the corners of her mouth curled up. Her voice becomes so deep and thick with emotion he finds it hard to believe it's hers. 

“Kurt, I...” Her voice cracks, prompting her to lick her lips. 

“Diane, what is it?” He urges, his voice soft as it crosses the small gap between them. 

She gazes at him, her eyes glossy and Kurt needs to squint to see if they’re welling up or if that’s just the effect of the light touching them. His patience is creeping away too fast for her to adjust and form her words; still stuck in her throat, the muscles closed around the syllables out of nervousness. 

“What?” His voice only possesses half the strength it normally would, the sound almost like a gasp. It’s not exasperated, but desperate and urgent, the fear that something may be wrong mingling into his voice.

Diane’s hands flutter down to her pelvis and her palms press flat against it. Through stammered words and a brief breathy chuckle of nervousness, the words finally spill out. “Kurt, I... I'm pregnant." 

As if she's breathed fire he straightens his back, his eyebrows shoot up and his lips part as his jaw hangs. He stares at her for a moment to give the words some time to sink in, letting the news truly impact him, and when it does all he can do is let out a little gasp of a laugh. His eyes light up, dark brown turning almost caramel as the light catches them and the expression of true happiness that appears on his face only makes her smile grow; her nervousness and unease fading, being replaced quickly by joy. 

"You're pregnant?" He repeats, the smile stuck on his face and he rubs a hand over his face when she nods at him. "You’re positive?" 

Arms folding around her sides Diane nods, “I’ve taken two tests and had blood drawn.”

“I thought we couldn’t...”

“Neither did I.”

“But you are.”

Finally a smile, carefree and wide, with no hint of fear or worry curls up her lips, inching the corners of her mouth up and then drawing the large C shape over them.

“I am.”

A hand darts to his head and rubs the back of his neck, then falls to his hip as his leg shifts out and he presses his heel into the floor.

“Kurt...?” Diane coos softly, dipping her head to look at him.

The audible breath he takes tells her he heard her, that he too is just reeling from the news. She inches closer to him and upon reaching him she sets her palms to his forearms, her forehead pressing to his shoulder as her body moulds into his. When one hand moves to her hip she raises her head and moves her hands to his cheeks, closing the distance between their lips. Her eyes remaining on his prompts his eyes to remain open too and she peppers his lips with soft kisses, her eyes eventually closing and she moves her lips to the corner of his mouth, down to his jaw. Diane feels him swallow so she looks up and finds him opening his eyes.

“How far along?” He asks lowly, eyes shifting over her face.

It’s funny how they’ve flipped roles; him now mute, her now reassuring. Although it’s not fear coursing through his body, but indulgence. He’s just letting it dawn on him. Letting it settle down deep into his bones that after what happened before and over the previous four years, this chance has become _theirs_.

“Six weeks.” Diane answers as she touches his cheek with her lips again.

Leaning to look at him, he’s no longer impassive. Six weeks; he does the very same she did and thinks back. Clearly she can tell, the smirk that greets him speaks her mind. His hand cups her cheek and before she can finish telling him about another scheduled appointment her words trail off when his lips cover hers, his arms folding around her and holding her, her knees buckling. She would have fallen had his arms not been wrapped around her, pulling her into him and holding her there, his lips pushing against hers to deepen the kiss. Her arm slides around him, her palm pressing to the back of his head. 

When they separate he drops his head to her shoulder, his forehead against her neck while his arms keep a firm hold on her body. 

“I love you.” She murmurs against him, writing the feeling across his skin with that intimately invisible, emotional ink. 

After a short moment he pulls back and presses another small, featherlight kiss to her lips before expelling a sigh of divine contentment. “And I love you.” 

“I scheduled another appointment for Friday morning so we can go through the possible uh... possible risks and..." Her words fall away and he can easily see that fear she keeps inside her bubble through again, if only for a brief moment. 

"I'll be there with you." His hand reaches down to take hers. “No matter what." 

Her head tilts to the side, her lips shaping into a small smile of gratitude for his endless support. However, it doesn't remain in place for very long, dragged down by yet another nerve-wracking thought, her eyes falling from his to his chest. 

"Kurt, if this doesn't work," Her voice is tender, thinner than usual too. "I don't want it to tear us apart like last time." 

He inhales deeply at her words, his thumb coming to a brief pause and he brings her hand to his lips, kissing her fingers softly. "It won't. I promise you." 

_"So you what? Just go on as if nothing happened? Where's your rigour for your pro-life belief now?" Diane growls, her hands firmly lodged on her hips, her shoulders tensed and high; as if they've been sharpened, her body ready to fight any battle now, merely for the sake of fighting. _

_"Diane for God's sake." He rises to his feet, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips. _

_There’s an animosity between them, a tension that’s never been there before; dividing them in such a painful way. They’re being pulled in two directions, but the worst direction, the one leading them away from one another, seems to be one they’re going in. Pushing each other away when one is allowing the other in, until their voices become too loud to talk, their silence becoming too deafening to listen to, their hostility sickening. They’re like two strangers with a very emotional past, full of wonderful memories and a unique kind of love. Yet neither knows how to walk back to that path to find that love, buried deep down beneath the pain and grief and anger. _

_"No, seriously Kurt. You’re just up and out of here. Disappear for months at a time and forget anything happened. Is that it?" _

_They push each other until they can’t take it, causing words of untrue meaning to spill, invisibly scarring each other, pressing painfully on open wounds until they end up writhing in pain._

_"You know damn well I can't control when I'm deployed.” His voice has raised an octave, a rare tone never used with her, and he hopes it will push his words through whatever wall she’s built around herself. _

_"Do you even try? Because right now it seems like you’d rather be out there rather than here.” Unlike him, her voice is low, thin and with some words, it grows weak and tired. Tired of fighting, tired of trying, tired of wishing and wanting this pain to pass, begging this grief to end. _

_“Maybe I do want that.” He closes his eyes the moment the words come out, too frustrated to think about them._

_A look of unconcealed hurt crosses her face, the words suddenly snapping her out of her rage. Day by day they’ve been forcing one another closer to the breaking point. She’s been working longer hours to avoid causing or getting caught in one of these miserable ruts. Usually it’s when one of them is willing to be peaceful the other seems to act out, until they become too hostile to even remain in the same room. There’s been times where a simple mistake blew up into something so ridiculous that they began to wonder how they ever managed life prior to her miscarriage. Before, when she was so distracted with her thoughts and she’d dropped a piping hot plate having forgotten it would be heated, his focus would be on ensuring her burn was tended to; tending to the dish or whatever hit the floor and shattered into pieces would come later. Before, when he would let his eyes linger on hers or let them roam her face with a small pout on his lips, he was looking at her affectionately, but now any moment he let his eyes linger she tended to believe she was being scrutinised, without the hesitation of calling him out on it. They’ve changed for the worse, sometimes it seems like they’ve just become too incompatible. And though neither will admit, it’s a terrifying thing._

_Sighing, Kurt rubs a hand over his jaw, and drops his arm to his side. “You’re shutting me out, Diane.“_

_The words come out just as he begins to take a step towards her, but her hair sways as she shakes her head rather defiantly and she steps back each time he steps forward._

_“Don’t you fucking come any closer to me.” _

_“Dia—“_

_“No.” She shouts, the word much more steadier than her swaying body is. The way he stares at her, originally an unfamiliar look that has recently become familiar, his eyes drained of any love or reassurance. Suddenly, her heart drops to her stomach as if it were a stone. “You blame me, you think this is my fault.” _

_“Who said that?!” _

_She stumbles back slightly, her eyes pacing as if something — two puzzle pieces — have clicked together in her mind, “I’m going to go pack a bag.” _

_“What-Where are you going?” _

_“I think a few days apart would do us good. I’ll stay with my parents.”_

_“Diane, please.”_

_“Don’t, Kurt.” There’s an angry glare in her eyes, but it softens uncontrollably for him the longer they hold their gaze; he’s always made her weak, even when she shouldn’t be. “Please, don’t.” _

There’s still a lingering hint of worry etched onto her features, and rather than verbally try to get rid of it, he simply pulls her into him again. Before she can realise what’s happening he’s cradling her into him and swaying them gently. His fingers tangle into her hair, holding her head to his chest, her head fitting perfectly in the crook of his neck. He can feel the tension seep from her, her body gradually coming to relax into his embrace, and when he pulls back several minutes later he finds that he’s been successful, the fear no longer written on her face. 

“Get into bed, I’ll flick off the lights.” He tells her, his head tilting in the direction of the bed. 

Silently, she goes about doing as he’s told her, shedding the warmth of his robe to hang it over the back of the chair by the window and just settles in beneath the blankets when he reaches the bed and begins undressing. They have so much to say, yet the news is so fulfilling as it is, just the mere possibility that they may have this opportunity pushes away any notion to talk about it in such depth. Laying beside her with his arm around her and her head resting against his chest with her leg stretched out over his body, she finds herself falling into a daze in time to his heartbeat. His other hand has made its way to her now temporarily flat abdomen, pressed against his side. 

“Six weeks.” Kurt puffs out into the silent air, which receives a nod of confirmation from Diane.

“Do you think it was the night I gave you that watch?” Diane asks when looking up at him.

“Considering we barely slept that night...” Kurt looks down at her, the corner of his mouth pulled up in an almost smug smirk.

In response to his toying, Diane shifts closer and intentionally settles her weight on his side for moment. The move is supposed to nudge him, but he’s so relaxed into the bed and too settled alongside her he doesn’t budge. Her attempts don’t cease, which only causes a rumble of laughter to escape him. Her patience quickly drains and she gives up, eventually coming to rest against him again. His fingers curl against her shoulder and he strokes her skin softly, his lips pressing to her forehead.

“It has to be that night.” She concludes eventually. “It’s been six weeks, at least.”

“Just when I finally have the opportunity to stay in bed all day with my wife, she gets pregnant.”

“Said pregnant wife is actually laying right next to you.” She nudges him with her knee. “And we do not spend all day in bed.”

Kurt looks down at her and the sceptical expression on his face only makes her roll her eyes.

“Hey, spending an extra two to three hours in bed on weekend mornings doesn’t mean a whole day. Besides, you’re the one who keeps insinuating it.” She pokes his chest gently.

“I didn’t see you for almost a year, of course I’m going to keep insinuating it.”

A toothy grin greets him and she tucks her head in beneath his chin again as a soft chuckle escapes her and then ceases. Breathing out Diane expels the emotions of the day and closes her eyes, letting herself sink down against him and burrow comfortably into his embrace.

They lay there for some time and while she’s laying down, the thoughts circling her mind make her dizzy. His reaction has made it so much better, so much more reassuring. But negative thoughts still linger on her mind, rounding the back of her skull and pushing to make the back of her head ache sharply. In the dark her wince is concealed but the shift of her head against him makes Kurt press her closer to him. Her mouth opens and the sound of her audible inhale has Kurt blinking his eyes open.

“Peter said it could be genetic.” Diane breaks the silence, her cheek moving softly against his chest. “My mother had four miscarriages Kurt, before she had me. What if...”

“Diane,” he whispers, her name drawn out, the tone immediately silencing her and inclining her to look up. 

“But Kurt...”

“Shhh,” he presses his lips to her forehead again. “You’re getting too worked up about something that may not be related at all. Diane, anything could have caused the miscarriage; just because there’s family history there doesn’t mean your body has some genetic inclination to abort every pregnancy. After all, Lillian did have you and think of the very rare chances it would have passed on to you.” 

Ever so vaguely shaking her head, Diane finds herself blinking in awe. For a man who rarely talks, he knows exactly when to speak and what words to use.

“You’re always so good with the pep talks.” She smiles a little, eventually revealing her teeth at the humble facial-shrug he gives in response. 

Diane pushes up against him, almost in a shimmying motion so she can rest her forehead against his cheek. The position causes his hand against her stomach to press harder, trapping it between their bodies and Diane reaches down to pry it from between them, despite his little mumble of protest. Instantly he slides it around her leg, still resting over him. 

“Kurt,” She rasps into his ear, drawing a hum from him. “Can we keep this only between us, until the twelve week scan?” 

His eyes open and he turns his head to the side, meeting her hopeful expression and with another delicate kiss to her forehead; right between her eyebrows, he nods his head.

“You got it.” 

She slides her hand up his arm to his shoulder, then up to his face and runs her thumb across the hill of his cheekbone, before pulling his head to hers, her lips delicately touching his for the softest and sweetest of kisses. Bringing her head back down, she rests against him again, letting the soothing beat of his heart lull her back to sleep in the warm and loving sanctuary of her husband’s arms, with the full belief that everything is going to be alright. 


	8. Chapter 8

The rain is falling from the west as soft as thistledown, lightly hitting the large rectangular window and rolling down the pane, leaving mournful trails following the elusive raindrops as they hurry to escape. Diane sits and watches them, only half present as her mother expresses her interest in her book club’s latest read, while her other half mentally walks the tightrope leading down memory lane. She’s never really asked her mother about her experiences, the pain too much at the time because of her own loss and when the pain eased off the knowledge of her mother’s tragedies became unnecessary for her to know. 

Until now. 

She holds her mug in her hands, her elbows on the table so she can hold the mug near her lips, the strong aroma of the coffee fading as it cools, forgotten about as she focuses on walking that tightrope into the past. It’s a challenging walk, one foot carefully placed in front of the other as she preserves, ignoring the inclination to simply fall away to the side to hit the secure, comforting net beneath; saving her from painful reminder of her loss. Their loss. 

“Diane, are you even listing to a word I’m saying?” Lillian asks, the irritation in her voice being the reason Diane is drawn to her. 

“Yes, sorry.” 

Bringing the mug to her lips, Diane grimaces at the now cold coffee and places the cup to the table. Eyes on her mother’s, she watches as the older woman subtly shakes her head, not bothering to hide her annoyance. Sometimes Diane wonders why she even visits, all they ever seem to accomplish is a one sided conversation that the other one has no interest in or a passive-aggressive disagreement.

To avoid the scrutinising gaze her mother takes no measures to conceal, Diane rises from the table and moves to the sink with her mug. The silence between them is thick with uncomfortable tension and Diane’s eyes drift to the drops sliding down the window again. A part of her urges her not to do it, to not ask, to just let the past rest and wait to see what the future holds. While the other part so desperately wants to know, because losing another baby will be difficult enough, but losing her husband is something she truly cannot endure.

She turns on her heel, her arms extended across the counter behind her. “How did you deal with it?” 

When the words come out there’s an accusatory tone to them, surprising Diane, but she doesn’t let it show. Instead, she waits until Lillian turns to look at her with a confused frown, clearly no idea of what Diane is referring to. 

“Deal with what?” 

“The miscarriages. Four of them, at least that’s what you told me.” 

The dismissing shake of Lillian’s head encourages Diane to cross the room again, dropping graciously into her seat, but any signs of kindness or warmth are absent from her blue orbs. 

“Seriously.” Diane edges on, her face contorted into an expression of determination; hardened like stone, and there’s a moment of silence between them. 

“Why do you want to know?” Lillian asks instead, her eyes thinning as they lock on Diane’s.

“Because  _I want to know_. ” Diane answers rather too quickly, her urgency instantly raising Lillian’s eyebrows in a suspicious bounce. “Look, I know this is hard to talk about, but I  _need_ to know.” 

Lillian’s suspicion doesn’t waver at her daughter’s imploring, Diane’s glare suddenly softening for effect, but instead the older woman sways her head. Her eyes shift from Diane’s to her empty cup, previously filled with piping hot green tea. 

“What aren’t you telling me, Diane?” 

The words are tinted with vexation, but the way her name falls from her mother’s lips makes her close her eyes. It’s condescending and exasperated, the word breathed out in a sigh, and it makes Diane regret ever bringing up the subject. Yet she doesn’t stray from her goal. If not for her, then for her husband. She owes this to him just as much as she needs it herself. Rather than back down, she opens her eyes and unveils a sheen of aggravation, no longer hiding her displeasure from her mother. 

“Why does everything revolve around secrets with you? Can’t a daughter ask her mother for advice anymore?” Diane snaps, her words coming out so fast almost she can’t perceive them. 

Lillian blinks at her, her lips parted in a similar fashion to Diane’s, before they press together tightly, her shoulders lifting with a deep inhale. 

“Diane, are you pregnant?” 

One of her greatest qualities, perfected by years of working in courtrooms, has always been her ability to maintain a poker face. With impassive blue eyes unfaltering in their glare, the only sign Diane hasn’t turned to stone is the rhythmic rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathes. They sit there like that, in a daunting silence that would have withered two lesser women, less stubborn and driven, and after a moment the first sign of a response from Diane is the habitual wipe of her lips with her tongue. 

“It’s been four years and sometimes I still think about it. I’m just curious as to how you’ve gotten over it, so many times.  _That’s all_. ” 

“That didn’t answer my question.” 

Diane holds her breath, her tongue pressing to the back of her teeth. “No, I’m not pregnant.” 

A hum comes from Lillian and Diane is tempted to query it, but seeing Lillian’s mouth open causes her words to die in her throat. 

“You really want to know how I got over them?” 

“If you’re not too reluctant to share.” Diane tilts her head, her words laced with sarcasm that only causes Lillian to glare. 

“I had you.” 

“You—“ Diane closes her eyes, subtly shakes her head, then opens them again. “How did you deal with it? Knowing there was a high chance you could lose the baby again?”

She watches as the older woman, with blonde hair that’s well kept and well coloured that frames a set of hazel eyes, looks away again, those hues dropping to her hand; fingers curled around the refined tea cup handle in front of her. 

“I just hoped for the best.” 

If Lillian hadn’t shrugged, hadn’t avoided her gaze, Diane would have believed her. But so many years of watching and questioning witnesses and clients, she’s learned to pick up on the most obvious and sometimes minor giveaways that tell her she’s been deceived.

Diane holds in the urge to blurt out a sarcastic  whatever you say, and instead stands up from the table. The move draws Lillian’s attention, but now, to Diane, it’s too late. She has so much more to ask, but she refuses to sit and be lied to by the one person that can truly give her some insight into how she’s feeling. Pushing the chair in beneath the table, Diane turns around. 

“I’m going to dad’s office.” She mutters, and she almost reaches the kitchen threshold when her mother’s voice makes her stop. 

“You know why you had a miscarriage?” 

Diane swallows audibly, her eyes sliding closed for a moment before she opens them with a flutter of blinks and she turns around slowly, meeting Lillian’s eyes. 

“No, I don’t.” Diane shakes her head, her arms crossing in front of her. 

“Well I do.” Lillian declares, rising to her feet. 

Diane shifts her weight, left foot to right, then back to her left and for a moment Diane wonders if her suspicions are true, if it is genetic. 

“Why don’t you tell me?” 

“It’s because of all that damn work you do. You don’t even eat half the time. You work all hours when Kurt’s not around and even when he is you still go to work.”

Rather than keep her emotions in check and avoid Lillian from seeing the impact her harsh words cause, Diane let’s them show. Her lips part barely, almost as if she’s merely trying to breathe in through her mouth. Any hope for a peace of mind is immediately tossed away, and she realises that she’s been baited into an ambush, one she’s all too used to, only this time she didn’t see it coming. It snaps something within her, the last straw perhaps, and Diane, even if she would want to hold it inside, can’t help but let her anger out, allowing it to radiate from her; through her eyes, her words, the tone of her voice. 

“I’m sorry to disappoint you Lillian, but unlike you I do go to work whether my husband is working or not. I don’t need to rely on Kurt to make a living. Nor have I time to sit at home sipping coffee from fancy china or go to book clubs and pottery classes.” 

If she wasn’t so angry, Diane would have felt almost satisfied with the shocked expression that finds its way to her mother’s face. Her head retracts slightly, her hazel eyes opening wider after a few blinks and she opens her mouth. Diane waits, wondering what her mother is failing to say, until the older woman eases down into her chair again and clasps her hands on the table, slowly looking up. 

“Is that how little you think of me?” 

A scoff escapes Diane, the sound so in sync with the way she twists around it’s almost as if the breath caused her body to jerk. When she looks at Lillian again, she tries to soften, tries to empathise, but the scrutinising gaze that comes her way makes it all the more difficult.

The air becomes thick with animosity and to soften the blow, Diane tries to force some emotion into her words. 

“Honestly, I don’t know what to think of you anymore. But you are certainly not the woman I remember.” 

Emotion filled words or not, the impact still hits Lillian the same and Diane realises that whatever string has been keeping their fragile relationship together over the past few years has finally been stretched into snapping. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I know you were disappointed I chose law, and not nursing or some other, as you called it  womanly , profession. And I was so naive as to think you got over that, that you had finally accepted that I was happy. Was that all just a way of covering up your disappointment? That after so many tries of having a child the daughter you had didn’t turn out to be the daughter you wanted?” 

“Alright that’s enough.” 

“No, it’s not. It’s the truth and you know it. Losing that baby is just an excuse for you to show how you feel about what I’ve made of my life.” 

“Diane.”

“Or was it the fact I always tended to be closer to dad? That to be just like him and nothing like you—“

“That’s enough!” 

Diane’s words cease, her lips thin and she watches Lillian as she rises from her seat and comes towards her. She’s a few inches shorter than Diane, but still quite tall, and seeing the enraged darkening hues looking almost predatory as they come closer makes Diane’s tongue swipe across the inside of her mouth, awaiting for some sort of reprimanding, a lesson on respect, a reminder of who she is.

“Get out.” 

Diane blinks, the reaction subconscious. It takes a moment for the bitter words to truly register in her mind, and with her eyes hardening she lets out a hum, the sound catching in her throat and only have projecting into the small distance between them. Nodding, a spiteful smile ghosts her lips. 

“Gladly.”

Not waiting for an answer or any hint of a reaction, Diane spins and storms from the room. The soles of her boots clack against the tiles of the hallway and as she passes by her father’s office, heading for the front door, she can hear Kurt call out her name. Rather than answer, she pulls the front door open and steps out into the night, the breezy cold and pain shooting through her combining to make her stumble across the wooden porch until she reaches the railing. With her hands curled firmly around it her knuckles begin to pale and her fingers are about to go numb until the sound of the front door closing has her loosening the grip. 

“You up for a chat?” 

When she goes to speak she realises she’s been clenching her jaw, and she has to roll it to ease the tense pain radiating there before speaking. 

“No.” 

“Diane,” he sighs, a small squeak following his voice telling her he’s sat down behind her.

Quickly blinking away the unshed tears that are pricking at her eyes, Diane lets out a breath and turns around, her arms crossing over her chest in a defensive move as she meets the blue eyes she’s known for. Her father bears a kind and soft expression, a frown pulling his lips down and his concern worrying his eyebrows. It’s so easy to see how she’s straining to keep some utterance of irritation or pain out, and from what he’s heard of the spat between Diane and her mother, he knows it’s not the best conversation they’ve had. 

However, call it a father’s intuition, he has a feeling this drives deeper than some spiteful words thrown at one another. 

“Will she ever be happy that I decided to become a lawyer? That I made something of my life?” 

“She is happy.”

Diane scoffs. “She’s got an odd way of showing it.” 

“You know how she is, Diane.”

He isn’t a vain man, her father, but he won’t waste his time entertaining a fool. He’s intelligent and driven; qualities Diane believes she’s learned from him, and she still remembers many nights of watching him work in his study; shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, wide rimmed glasses perched on his nose as a studious look graced the law professor’s face. The light behind him was dim, but bright enough for him to read his notes and correct papers. Occasionally he would look up at the staring, fawn haired child watching him like he was magical, and invite her to come sit with him until her mother came searching for the daughter whose bedtime it was long passed. 

“I asked her about her miscarriages, how she overcame them.” Diane begins, her fingers brushing against her nose before returning to the front of her chest again. 

“What did she say?” 

“Nothing, that’s the thing. Started going off on how my work caused my miscarriage.” 

Edward stands up and approaches his daughter, his hands slipping into his trouser pockets. “Nothing you did caused the miscarriage.”

Diane looks up at him, her eyes watery and glossy and rather than answer, she merely nods. Her mouth opens but closes immediately, the words caught before she can utter them, before she can tell him the truth. Deep down, she wants to have some faith that this will all work out, but she can’t bear the disappointment and the grief of losing another baby. Especially if others have been made aware of the news. 

“But that’s not all that’s bothering you, is it?” Edward asks, his eyebrows bouncing in a similar fashion to Diane’s and he raises a hand before she can answer. “You don’t have to tell me, just know that I’m here, Diane.”

A smile, small but grateful, lingers on her lips for a moment before it falls away again. Her reluctance returns and she knows no matter what, if this pregnancy fails or succeeds, her father will always stand by her. The embrace he pulls her into only proves her right. He’s already shown it time and time again, and the mere reminder gives her a stroke of confidence. 

_“Dad?” Diane calls softly, hovering in the doorway of his home office._

_His head snaps up from the book he’s reading, his glasses resting snugly on his nose, his eyes on hers over the dark rim of the spectacles. _

“_Diane, you’re still up?” _

_“It’s... hard to sleep.” _

_“Come in.” He invites, closing up his book and setting it on the desk. _

_Diane makes her way into the study and gravitates towards the couch. Sinking down into it, she watches her father rise from his seat behind his desk and approach her, his glasses being tucked into his shirt’s chest pocket. There’s a look on his face, one of understanding even though she’s said very little, and realises that in these situations he’s quite the expert. It makes her wonder how he dealt with so many losses, the heartbreak of expecting a child only to lose it. _

“_What’s keeping you up, Diane?” Edward asks, easing onto the couch and facing her. _

_Diane almost throws him a look, but she realises that tonight it’s not the miscarriage that’s keeping her from sleeping, but the absence of the person she’s fallen asleep beside for most of the past six years. She shakes her head and sighs, her hand brushing over her shin under the cotton of her pyjama pants._

_“How did you do it? Get through so many miscarriages?” Diane asks instead, inclining Edward to clasp his hands in his lap and let out a breath. _

“_It wasn’t easy. The first time we weren’t expecting a baby and we had nothing mapped out, so I don’t think it affected us as much as the rest. For a few weeks after it happened it was like walking on eggshells. We were both suffering, trying to figure out why and how, while also making sure to look after one another.” _

_Diane nods in time to his words, a small frown growing on her lips and she begins to trail her nails across the lining of the cushion she’s leaning on. _

_“Did you ever think it was mom’s fault?” _

_“Heavens no. Never.” _

_Diane looks down at her hand, her eyes instantly going to the wedding ring on her finger, glimmering in the lamplight, reminding her of the man at home, hoping she’ll be back soon, wishing she was there right now, just like she’s wishing he’s here with her. She closes her eyes, a voice in her mind chastising her for letting herself push him away, for hurting him when he was already hurting so much, when all he was trying to do was help her, to ease her pain, trying to love her, and be loved. _

_Her stomach flips in disgust at her own actions and words, so bitter and cruel, and so very untrue. The last thing they need is a break, and she knows that now. What they need is each other. _

“_How did you feel when it happened?” _

_Edward’s eyes wander to her, finding her still looking at her ring and despite her subconsciously ignoring him, continues to answer. “Do you remember that time you were twelve, and that little pup of yours got sick?”_

_Diane furs her eyebrows, a little confused at the conversation topic but willing to go along. She nods once, feeling his gaze on her but not daring to meet it. _

“_And the little guy just couldn’t get better. Eventually, he got too sick and your mother and I made that choice to bring him to the vet.”_

“_You didn’t even tell me you were doing it.” Diane reminds, her nails pricking on the corner of the cushion._

_“Well, when your mother lost baby after baby, I felt the same way you felt at the loss of that dog. Hopeless. Like life wasn’t fair, full of unjust.” _

_Diane looks up at that, her fingers stopping their ministrations and she pulls her lower lip into her mouth, her top set of_ _teeth sinking into it; softly at first, then for a painful second, before she releases her lip and wipes her tongue out over it. _

_“I’m such a fool.” She scoffs, tears suddenly springing to her eyes. _

_Looking to the ceiling, Diane closes her eyes and swallows down the emotion threatening to spill from her. Right now, all that matters to her is the one person she’s truly hurt, the one person she’s abandoned and pushed away, the one person who can really help her. All the while she’s been suffering she’s been ignoring how he feels. And now, all she wants is to see him and tell him just how sorry she is, to apologise for being so selfish and ignorant, so spiteful and cruel. _

“_He loves you Diane. If he didn’t, do you really think he’d be waiting for you to come home and wanting to help you recover from this?” _

_Her blue eyes meet his and a small smile, of gratitude and love and appreciation is offered. Then as if clouds have rolled across her eyes, the orbs are full of realisation and determination. _

“_I love you dad, but right now I have to go.” _

_Diane pushes up from the couch, her father watching in slight confusion as she_ _straightens up. _

_“Diane it’s nearly midnight.” _

_“Yes,” she nods defiantly, “no time like the present.” _

_Turning, Diane makes her way to the office door, only to spin again at her father’s words. _

_“Diane, can’t this wait until morning?” _

_“No,” she shakes her head, “I’m going home.” _

Familiar steps with a sluggish, laid back scrape against the wood, approach them and then stop. He makes no other sound and for a moment Diane wonders if she merely imagined his presence, until his hands planting upon his hips catch her gaze. The sounds cause Diane to wriggle out of her father’s hug and look in the direction they came in and she finds Kurt frozen, unsure of what to do until he begins to utter an apology and moves to head back inside. 

“Kurt wait,” she calls, then gives her father a meaningful look. 

The older man gives her a small smile of reassurance, then backs away and passes Kurt by, both men exchanging a nod that has Diane shaking her head.

Even after her father has left them alone, a long moment of silence passes, Kurt allowing her to gather her thoughts and collect her emotions, before her arms reach back for her to grasp the railing she’s once again leaning against. 

Concern and confusion shine in his patient orbs, twinkling in the low lamp light as he watches her carefully, not missing any reaction, no matter how big or small. 

“She wouldn’t tell me, and we got into an an argument.”

“I heard.” 

Diane feels the heat of her blush creeping up her neck, a sign of embarrassment. It wasn’t her intention coming here, to create a spat and weaken whatever relationship remains between her and her mother. 

“I was hoping you hadn’t.”

“You know she’s wrong.” 

“About what?” 

Kurt steps closer and the sound his boots make incline her to look over her shoulder at him. He stops beside her, his shoulder pressing into hers and he smiles; small but comfortingly. 

“It’s never been your fault. And I’m glad you’re not one of those women who stays home all day just because I’m working or because I’m home.” 

A snicker comes from her and she feels his arm move to curl around her, pulling her into him, closer still, as if trying to fit her into every curve and groove of his body, and him into hers. It’s short lived, her moment of amusement, and her thoughts conspire to weigh down on her shoulders and her chest, like heavy weights, pressing down harder and harder, trying to make her crumble, make her struggle to fight back. It makes her breathless and suddenly she’s gasping for air and pulling out of his grasp, confusing him. 

Diane shuffles away in a few stumbling steps, her hand clutching the railing tighter for balance, and Kurt can only watch as the impact of the argument, the hauntings of the past and the fears of the future, all ragingly, rampantly attack. 

“Hey, we still have that doctor’s appointment in two days, any concerns you have you can ask there, and if you can’t ask them then I will.”

The answer seems to comfort her little. She presses her fingers to her lips in worry, lets her eyes wander across the lawn, only snapping them back to Kurt when he inches closer. Not quite touching, but enough to feel the heat radiate off his body; waiting and ready to reach out and pull her to him and comfort her in any way he can. 

“You know, it’s been twenty years since I made up my mind that I want to work with the law, and even now, after going through law school, passing the bar, getting a job, being promoted, becoming a name partner. After it all she’s still bitter, she’s not even happy that I’ve made something of my life.” 

“And that’s her failing, not yours.” Kurt reassures, looking down at her, aching to reach out and touch, to pull her to him and ward off the pain. 

Tears, hot and glistening in the light, trail down her face in quick trickles, some falling from her chin, others catching at her lips. He doesn’t resist touching her anymore and he curls his arm around her lower back, pulling her into him while his other hand presses to the back of her head and his fingers get lost in her thick tresses, brushing softly over her head as he rocks her. With her head resting against his neck, Kurt can feel the collar of his shirt grow damp and right now, he realises it’s not only tonight’s event that’s caused this emotional outburst, but every little thought that’s been conceived since she found out the news of her pregnancy. 

She sinks into him, her hands pressing to his upper back, her body absorbing the heat of his as he lets her feel, lets her release everything that’s been clouding her mind and holding her back from the joys that come with such news, with such expectations. Not only does seeing her so hurt and worried upset him, but also knowing she can’t truly enjoy it because of that nagging fear in her mind, concerned not only about the loss but about him, and if there’s anything he wants her to know, it’s that he’ll never be going anywhere, has no place else he’d rather be, no matter what happens, no matter where life leads them. 

He’s unaware of how long he’s holding her, but eventually her tears subside and he can feel her breathing moderate; no longer rattling, shaky breaths, but slow, deep inhales and exhales. When she finally pulls back, Kurt immediately notices the redness around her eyes, her mascara has left small streaks down her cheeks, and her eyes are still glossy. He cups her cheeks and swipes his thumbs across the wet skin beneath her eyes, then brushes the backs of his fingers down her face, ridding her of any stains and wet trails. 

“I’m sorry.” Diane whispers after a moment, her tongue rolling around her mouth to wet it. 

“You don’t need to be sorry for anything.” Kurt leans in and presses his lips to her forehead. 

She nods, a soft, shaky breath escaping her and her eyes soften into little lumps of blue. An embarrassed smile, small and barely noticeable pulls her lips up at the corners. 

“Can we go home?” She asks with a pleading look in her eyes. 

She’s never been one to shy away, never been one to run. But tonight has been her uncontrollable time to let it all out. It’s been the last push over the edge, and in many ways, Kurt is almost relieved it’s happened. Now, she’s not harbouring emotions and fears, letting them drown her. 

“Of course we can. Take my keys, you go wait in the truck. I’ll tell Ed we’re heading home.”

“Thank you,” she murmurs as she presses a kiss to his cheek, her lips remaining there as her hand trails down his body to his wrist, pulling his hand from her back.

After a reassuring squeeze of his hand, her thumb grazing over the bump of his wrist, she brushes by him and walks down the pebble-stoned lined path to Kurt’s truck, Kurt’s eyes never leaving her until she slips into the truck. From inside, Diane watches as Kurt wipes a hand over his face and turns around, making his way to the front door in slow steps. Alone in the rather peaceful silence, her eyes trail down the path to and from the house, onto the truck dashboard, then down to her barely-there bump, hidden all along beneath her blazer until she unbuttons it. 

Reaching down, Diane smoothes her palm down her abdomen, over the tiny hill that’s coming to grow there, then stops at the underside with the back of her hand pressing to her leg. Her mouth opens but the words catch in her throat and she looks up, feeling ridiculous, but her eyes are drawn down again and that foolishness, the embarrassment, suddenly it’s gone; has disappeared into thin air. 

“Hey there little one,” she begins, her thumb dipping into the hollow of her naval as she brushes her fingers over her belly. “I want to tell you that, despite what you probably  didn’t hear,” she rolls her eyes at herself, “I’m always going to keep you safe. You just have to do a little work for the next few weeks to make sure I can do my job, which is being your mother.” 

She doesn’t realise there’s tears trailing down her cheeks until one drops from her chin to her fingers, and she wipes her cheeks with her other hand as she sniffs. A small laugh escapes her and she runs that hand through her hair. 

“I’m game for it kid,” she breathes, her eyes locking on the growing figure of her husband as he approaches the truck. “I just need you to be too.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thank you’s to my wonderful beta and friend for her encouragement ( in general ) but especially on this chapter; I wouldn’t be posting without her. I’m not particularly fond of it and put off posting for a while. I hope to get back into the rhythm of updating soon. Thank you all for being so patient, it’s truly appreciated. ♡

The door beeps loudly as it opens, her hand falling from the keypad to the handle as she steps in. It’s anything but what she’s been expecting. A narrow and long rectangular room, counter tops lining both sides with a long rectangular table stretching down the centre of the room; leading to a dark grey metal door, surrounded by light grey walls. The counters are lined with various technical instruments; some she’s never seen before and she glances around, letting her eyes wander slowly over everything the room has to offer. She notices Kurt’s coat thrown over the edge of the table, beside it an open case file and a pen resting on the sheets untouched and the stool next to the table suggests he’s been looking through the microscope beside the file. 

Before she can call out for him a loud, sharp sound; a bang, that echoes around the room startles her. Her hand flies to her lower abdomen, pressing to the slight bump hidden beneath her coat while her shoulders jerk up and she kicks her ankle as her steps falter. It takes her mind a moment to catch up, eventually realising the sound was that of a gunshot. The sound of shoes shuffling and a clatter of something like plastic draws her to the end of the room and Diane slips her fingers between the door and frame; pulling it back just enough to look inside. There’s more guns than she could have imagined all on display on the wall with small tags hanging from them. 

It’s the grind of his shoe that pulls her attention to him and she realises why he’s unaware of her presence. Body stiff, gun pressed into his shoulder, his head tilted to gaze through the scope; the unflattering yellow of the earmuffs seem to coordinate well with the plaid shirt he’s wearing. Along with the dark green vest, the worn-out jeans and cowboy boots. He moves again — a slight shift to the right and she hears the click of the rifle in his hands. She looks away, about to reach up for her ears when she spots another pair of earmuffs hanging on the wall, and the stumble to grab them, put them on and move to the opposite side of the room is hastier than she anticipates. The crack from the gun is dulled but the sound still makes her flinch, her body twisting away from her hips up, her legs remaining still. 

Diane reaches for the countertop near her and slips up on it, her ankles locking as they hang in the air and she watches as Kurt thoroughly studies the result of the shots. When she sees him unload the gun she slips the earmuffs down to her neck, letting them sit there as she waits for him, not daring to utter a sound in case she knocks him from his thoughts. When he turns around he meets her eyes but it’s as if she’s invisible because he instantly begins to note his findings on the file on the small desk. A moment later when he looks up, satisfied with his work, he finds her watching him with a smile. 

“Hey there.” She greets coyly with her head tilted, a spark of amusement in her eyes. 

“Hey,” Kurt utters, her presence clearly unexpected, but the twitch of his lips is a giveaway that he’s quite happy to see her. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I know. I finished early and thought I’d surprise you. See where you’re working now. Then after maybe we could go for dinner.” She shrugs a shoulder and Kurt nods. 

Dropping the pen to the desk, Kurt rounds it and approaches her. Hands slipping beneath her coat, they find her hips and his thumbs brush over her sides. She lets him step between her legs and he presses a kiss to her jaw in greeting.

“Dinner sounds great. Question is what can you eat without bringing it back up.” Kurt points out, which only draws a grumble from his wife. 

Looking up at her, Kurt let’s his eyes trail over her face before settling them back on hers. He can see she’s tired, the morning sickness and fatigue evidently consuming all the energy she can generate; forming dark circles beneath her eyes and premature bags that she’s attempting to mask with a layer of makeup.

“Toast.” She answers after pondering his question, which draws a small laugh from him. 

Kurt reaches up to take the earmuffs from her neck and shakes his head in amusement as he crosses the room to hang up both pairs, along with his safety glasses, and walks to the opposite side of the room again.

With a hand on the table Kurt leans forward and begins to flick through the file again. 

“Then how about we take a rain check. I’ll take you home, make you some toast and when you can eat a proper meal I’ll take you out.”

“It would be nice to sleep through the night without feeling the urge to vomit.” Diane sighs, earning her a sympathetic smile as Kurt approaches her again, the brown paper file in his hand. 

He steps between her legs automatically, the file pressing against his stomach as he leans in, another kiss grazing her chin before he turns around and flips open the document. 

“How was work?”

“I got through one of Howard Lyman’s proposals without falling asleep. And we got a new client.”

“What about getting sick?”

“Twice after I left home this morning. Not long after I got in and again in the early afternoon.” 

“Have you eaten since?” Kurt asks and looks over at her, his words almost too serious for the relaxed conversation they’ve been sharing. 

“Considering I can’t keep anything down...” 

“Diane, even something small.” He sighs and closes the pages; his thumb still holds on to mark his page. 

“Then you try the morning sickness and tell me how hungry you are.” She says bluntly, her eyes almost challenging him to do the impossible feat. 

“When we get home I  _am_ making you toast.” 

“You better.” 

The look they share this time is less challenging, less condescending and worried. It’s more relaxed and satisfied, almost mingled with acceptance. He goes back to his file, questions her again about work.

He hums, his head tilting back when her arms slide around him, her chin resting on his shoulder. Her body presses into his back and Kurt leans back into her, his eyes flickering over the file. She’s so quiet that if her fingers weren’t brushing softly over his shoulder, he’d think she’s asleep. When he looks up he finds her eyes locked on the guns decorating the wall, wandering over each slowly, taking in every detail. 

Feeling his eyes on her, Diane invites him into her stream of thoughts. “Why is there this attraction to guns, hmm? I don’t understand it.” 

The mumble of words breathed into his ear makes him smirk as he returns his gaze to the file, a knowing, subtle shake of his head with it, and he turns the page to the file. However, the soft presure of her thumb brushing over his shoulder tends to distract him, not letting him get far into his reading before he's looking up at her again.

“You wanna fire one?” 

Her neck cranes so she can gaze at him, her lips pulling up into a one sided smile, teasing him. “I was a pretty good shot.”

“Then fire one.”

“With your baby inside me? Not a chance, McVeigh. You’ll have to find some other way to convince them to join the Tea Party. I’m not doing the dirty work for you.”

“Oh I will. I can be pretty convincing.”

“Is that so?” She scoffs, her eyebrow raising, her eyes fixed on his. 

“Yeah,” He nods, pausing for a second, his eyes grinning as a thought comes to mind, “I got a Dem to marry me after all.”

A toothy smile forms on her lips, a small chuckle escaping her and she tightens her arms around him; squeezing him gently. 

“You got a Dem to _love_ you. I think that’s a better achievement.” She presses a kiss to his skin right in front of his ear. 

“This kid is going to have a lot of fun during elections.” Kurt muses, dropping his head back to her shoulder. 

“No they won’t. We both know they’ll be cheering blue.”

“Hey, just because they’re inside you doesn’t mean they’ll be a Democrat.” 

“That's true. I try converting you when you’re inside me and it never seems to work.” 

Kurt holds her gaze, his face impassive until the uncontrollable twitch of his lip makes her laugh; the sound deep within her throat and almost guttural and she lowers her face to his to kiss him; sweet and slow. The paper ruffles inside the folder, which gets both of their attention and Kurt carefully reorganises it. 

“Whose case is it?” Diane asks, her chin back on his shoulder as she reads over the notes he’s written. 

“Adrian Boseman’s.” Kurt offers the file to her and once it's secure in her grasp he moves away from her. 

She watches as he goes about cleaning the rifle that was just in use, then sets it on its rack on the wall. Uncontrollably, her eyes go back to the vast variety of guns, some so small she's sure she can fit them in her purse. The thought even snaps her out of her daydream and when she brings her eyes to Kurt, she finds him clipping a small tag to the rifle. 

"You could start a war." 

"They're not mine, all ongoing cases." 

_“Guns?” She repeats almost stunned, her blue eyes popping from beneath the light orange make-up powdered across her eyelids and the slick black mascara sharpening her eyelashes. _

_“Yes.” He nods once, gives no other explanation. _

_She inhales audibly, the sound sharp and easy to hear over the sound of the river flowing in the distance. If he didn’t know her as well as he does he could easily mistake it for an intake of breath after their long trek up the steep path. But he does know her, knows that inhale is one of surprise. _

_“You expected different.” He points out before she can reply, his head turning so he can look at her. _

_Her head immediately raises from her boots and she looks to him, her lips thinning into a guilty smile. Yet she tries to reassure him by slipping her hand into his. _

_“No.” She speaks slowly. “It’s just not something I hear everyday, like football. Chess. Wine tasting.” _

_He snorts at that last one, his eyes flashing with amusement that has hers rolling. _

“_So, the whole reveal of telling me shooting is your favourite pastime, that didn’t just come to mind because we’re alone, walking across a deadbeat path in the middle of a forest... did it?” _

_He snickers at that, shakes his head subtly with a sigh and lets go of her hand; letting it fall to her side. He climbs up onto a bank; a dried out river bank she realises, and turns around to offer his hand to her. She’s easy to pull up, lighter than he anticipates which is no surprise. _

“_Middle of the forest you say?” He repeats, his head tilting to the side._

_She follows his gesture and realises that his truck is less than fifty yards away, parked right outside the back of his parents house. _

  
“_Wait, how did...”_

_ “We just walked a full C.  Here.” He sighs, drawing her eyes to him as he sits down on the ground. “What?”  _

“_I am not sitting on wet leaves. It’s enough you got me wearing flannel and jeans.” _

_“They look good on you.”_

“_No, they look good on _ you .” 

_“If you‘re so anti-denim then why aren’t you sitting on them?” _

“_I said I’m not a fan, not that I want to dirty them.” She points out, hands on her hips as she stares down at him. _

_“You are a mess of contradictions.” _

_She thins her eyes and surveys the ground at her feet; the soggy soil and wet, curling leaves. The only thing she’s enjoying is his company, but the smell of fresh air is pleasant too. _

_“You’re not going to sit down?” _

_“I prefer the view from up here.”_

_“Diane, _ _I’ve sat here many times.” _

_“Oh I’m sure. I think the ground is dented in the shape of your ass.” _

_“Would you just sit down? It’s not even that damp.” _

_She looks around, almost like she’s looking for a chair to suddenly pop out of nowhere. Sighing, she bends down, about to grudgingly sit on the soil when his arm catches her around the waist and pulls her to him, resulting in her sitting on his legs. _

_“Happy?” _

_She smiles at that, her features softening when he smirks back at her, a knowing gleam in his eyes; shadows of the trees swaying in them. She leans in and rests her head on his chest, below his shoulder as his arms curl around her. It’s quiet and calming, the scent of what she can finally identify as gunpowder, mixed with a little bit of _Old Spice _and the fresh smell of soggy earth combines to be almost therapeutic to her lungs; resetting and relaxing her entire body. Cool air is trapped between the cascade of oak trees hanging over them, also blocking out the daylight above. The opening in front of them shines enough light for them to see_. _It’s like a cave; roughly circular, hidden away in nature, concealed and protective like a bubble. _Their bubble_. _

_Time escapes them, with neither keeping tabs on it. Yet clouds covering the sun and the sky becoming dark, along with the chilling of the air around them is a silent reminder that the day is passing away. _

_“I like it here.” Diane murmurs against him, the words making him smile a little. _

“_I’m glad.” _

_“Kurt,” she pushes up to a sitting position, her hand pressing to his upper arm for balance. He’s looking at her expectantly, yet there’s an uncertainty in his eyes, wondering what’s on her mind. “Do you really shoot guns when you’re not serving?” _

_His eyebrow crooks in a _that’s all_ manner and he breathes in. “Yep.”_

_She scoffs a small laugh out, the sound echoing between their close bodies when her head hangs. _

_“My father is going to be thrilled to meet you.” She says through her gentle laughter, not giving him time to respond_ _when her lips purse and press to his. _

_He sinks into her kisses for a moment, responding keenly, his hands sliding up her back to her hair and her leg to her hip. When they break apart again they’re both breathless and that stench of gunpowder is dizzying when she breathes in. _

“_When you say your father do you mean the hardcore liberal or the law professor,” he asks before pressing his lips to her chin, nipping there with a few chaste kisses before leaning his head back to meet her eyes._

_“Both.” She beams quite catlike at him and he doesn’t know if she’s teasing him, trying to wind him up or genuine. _

_Whatever it is, it doesn’t play on his mind for longer than a few seconds. His lips find her neck, nuzzle there for a brief moment before travelling up to her jaw and peppering her skin affectionately. _

_“God why do I feel like a high school student skipping class behind the bleachers.” She murmurs before his lips return to hers, a chuckle vibrating from them. _

Diane hums, her gaze then drifting to the case file in her hands and she skims over it, flicking through the pages. She's faced Adrian Boseman a few times in court, but representing a police brutality victim doesn't surprise her. Her eyes drop to the lower end of the page, reading over Kurt's findings, all scribbled down in his familiar writing and yet to be written out in detail. Flipping it closed she extends her arm and offers it to him when he walks by. She slips off the countertop to follow him out the door again and watches as he draws the metal bars across the inside of the threshold, closes it, then walks around the larger exterior room. 

She’s tempted to leave, knowing her looming presence is probably distracting him. Yet her mind and body part ways, with her legs leading her towards the table; her fingers trailing over the long, narrow, cold barrel of another rifle on a stand. The call of her name startles her, makes her turn to look at him and there’s an apologetic twinkle in his eyes. 

“You ready to go home?” He asks, rising from the stool with a small leather folder in one hand, his coat in the other. 

“If you are. I can always get that cab to come back.” 

Kurt presses his lips together, a sceptical look on his face, with deep lines creasing his forehead. A sign is pushed from his nose and Diane only smiles sheepishly at the expression that greets her. 

“Are you serious? Come on, let’s go.” He shakes his head, extending his arm and encouraging her to approach him. 

With an arm secured around her lower back Kurt insistently, but gently, guides her to the door and locks it behind him. He gestures for her to walk ahead of him and slides the wooden door closed behind him. There’s still a nightly chill in the air when the sun has gone down and Diane slips her hands into her coat pockets at the damp air sweeping through the large barn. It’s lit by orangey-yellowish overhead lights, casting a dark peachy hue across the light brown wood. The clashing of heavy rain beats down on the wood overhead and Kurt pauses in putting on his coat. 

“Here,” he says, shrugging the brown suede off again to hang it on her shoulders.

“I have a coat.” 

“A blazer.” He corrects as he pulls the hood up. 

She looks smaller than she is in his coat; the coat that reaches his waist reaches below hers and swallows her up, the arms a little longer and covering her hands up to her knuckles. 

“You’ll get sick, Kurt.” She tries again, her hand slipping into his. 

“Better me than you two.” He nods once, his head tilt referring to her abdomen. 

Dragging the door back, his hand tightens it’s grip on Diane’s and he leads her out; not letting her hand go as he locks the door. Kurt turns around and pulls Diane with him as they quickly make their way around the barn towards his truck parked in the muddy makeshift car park.

“Makes you think back to our honeymoon.” Diane utters, her hand holding the hood to keep her head covered. 

“I think this is a long way from a tropical thunderstorm.” 

A small snicker escapes her but it’s hard to hear over the sound of their rushed footsteps, the tapping of rain, and the slap of their shoes landing in shallow puddles.

“I thought you said that was your favourite day out of the whole week we spent away.” She teases, her words more fluid as she slows to a walk.

“You want to talk about that now?”

She shrugs and Kurt shakes his head. 

Stopping at the truck, Kurt’s about to reach for the handle when Diane reaches for his hand, pausing his motions. He looks at her, his hair damp and drops of raining dripping from his chin. 

“It was my favourite day.” She tells him with a hunch of her shoulder. 

There’s something about her that suddenly has his hands grasping the lapels of his coat and drawing her to him, his arm then curling around her shoulders as he presses his lips to hers. His nose is wet against her cheek and she leans into him, a soft sigh brushing over his face as she exhales, letting him exhaust her lungs into burning; her shoulders slumping as she weakens, her eyes fluttering. When he pulls back, it surprises her and her eyes instantly open.

“You’re crazy.” 

“I’m a Democrat, according to you that’s certifiable.”

Kurt grins at her and opens the car door, stepping back to let her get in. “This baby’s going to be a Republican.” 

The words make her stop and she looks at him, her tongue pressing to her teeth. He can see she’s unusually stuck for an answer, but when her fingers slip into his jeans front pocket and pull him to her, all hints of a smug expression are wiped from his face. 

“Keep dreaming Cowboy.” She grins, her hand curving to the shape of his neck and guiding his head to hers. 

For a moment, the rain trickling down their faces, the thoughts of going home and having dinner, and the plan of heading to bed and getting a good night’s sleep, fade away. 


	10. 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References to The Good Wife episode 4x19.  
T/W: Mentions of miscarriage.

Diane pushes the courtroom door open and steps out into the lobby, a flock of people rushing in all directions right in front of her. Behind her she can hear the heavy steps of Stern and rather than return conversation, she glances at her watch and offers him a small shake of her head.

_ Not now.  _

She’s more preoccupied about her appointment and to be frank, isn’t in the mood to be lectured by him about her attention span in court. 

Stepping around the corner, she expects to see her husband waiting; leg propped up and resting against the wall, arms crossed, head hanging as he taps the foot on the floor in a patient slow dance. However he’s nowhere to be seen and with her lips pressing into a pout she glances around the hallway for him. When she turns around again, a shadow of a security guard behind a glass door catches her eye and after a moment of hesitation, she’s inclined to approach another courtroom. She lingers at the entrance, her eyes immediately catching onto her husband as he sits in the witness box looking at a large screen with a remote in one hand and using the other to explain his findings. Diane makes her way inside as quietly as her heels allow and eases the door closed behind her. From the last time she’s seen him testify he’s changed quite a bit and she finds herself beginning to smile. She stands there for a moment, simply leaning against the wall by the door, her blazer hung over her arm with her bag hanging from her fingers. 

Looking to the screen beside Kurt she realises he may be a little longer than anticipated. He’s still unaware of her presence with his attention seemingly solely focused on the screen and the attorney questioning him. Diane pushes off the wall and stands up straight, her gaze dropping to her watch again. If they’re not out soon, they’ll be cutting their appointment close. She bends her knees a little to place her bag to the floor and shrugs on her blazer, still listening intently as her husband speaks. 

“As you can see the bullet entered the body and left what we call a ‘tail splash’. Now, this is basically the hurling of injured tissue behind.” Kurt’s words echo around the courtroom, his voice at an unusually high pitch; ensuring he can be heard. “The bullet moves through the body and creates a...” His words become meek and trail off; a soft cough ending them, almost like a gurgle of breath getting caught in his throat. 

Diane looks towards him and finds his eyes on her and while fixing the cuff of her blazer, she greets him with a small smirk and nod of encouragement. Instantly he looks away, his eyes back on those of the attorney standing in front of him; but not without his gaze drifting down her body to the vague, almost imperceptible bump her black dress covers, but also highlights to the knowing eye. 

"The bullet, the bullet moving through the body, you can see here, the bullet as it’s... as... I’m sorry, what was the question again?”

A nervous chuckle comes from the attorney and Diane watches as he turns rigidly to the jurors, scanning their reaction to the unexpected blunder. 

“What effect did the location of the gun have on the bullet when it made impact with the victim?"

Kurt's voice barks into the courtroom again as Diane sweeps her bag up from the floor and reaches for the door in one fluid motion, leaving the frosted glass door bang behind her. It makes her smile as she walks to the corner, the memory of her questioning him several years ago almost too similar to what she's just witnessed. It seems like she does have an effect on him when he's on the stand after all. 

She's been waiting seven minutes when he finally steps through the door and stops, looking around for her. She can tell because's she's glanced at her watch at least once per minute while waiting. Diane rounds the corner and the familiar sound of her high heels makes him turn; he meets her eyes and notices the smirk on her lips as he approaches. 

"Thank you." 

"You were wonderful."

"I was not wonderful, I was... distracted."

"You were wonderfully distracted."

A sigh blows from his nose as he presses his lips together firmly, his head at a slant as he gazes at her. Her lower lip trembles and a scoff comes from Kurt when he realises she's straining to keep her laughter in, the sound finally breaking the barrier and her chuckle, alive with amusement, travels up from her throat to echo against her teeth. He tries to remain impassive, but the sound only makes him grin and he's happy to see the anxiety she's been feeling about this appointment disappear for a moment.

"Really, you were wonderful." Diane clears her throat, her hand pressing to her chest before being returned to her pocket.

"I'll take your word for it." He replies gruffly, accepting her sympathetic smile as an apology and he's about to turn when her fingers slip beneath the lapel of his jacket, tugging him around again.

Before he can speak her lips press to his, her hand trapped between them. A hum of surprise vibrates against her lips, making her smile when she pulls away and she swipes her tongue over her lower lip. He's more surprised by the action occurring in such a public place rather than the action itself, but he'll never complain. 

"I'm sorry. You did great on the stand." Diane reassures, uncurling her fingers from his jacket to pat his chest. 

That same hand drops down to his and he instantly grasps it; his hand is larger than hers, so much he can almost press his thumb to his knuckle at the back of her hand. It's always been a way to offer unvoiced strength when she needs it most, a way to pass on support with a gentle squeeze, or subconsciously remind her of his love when his thumb brushes back and forth across her skin. It's in a moment like this on their way to the doctor's office that he knows she needs that strength and support and his love more than ever. He knows that, while she never hesitates to remind him of how great he uses his words, a pep talk or reassuring utterance will do little for her. The clogs of her mind are already spinning and while she tries to distract herself; tries to give herself a reason to breathe easy, to worry less and focus on something else, her attempt at concealing it no longer proves efficient when it comes to him. 

With their hands intertwined and resting on his lap, he knows her just from the involuntary clench of her fingers around his, the absentminded scratch of her thumbnail against his palm. There had been a time he couldn't tell if she were lying, couldn't tell how she was truly feeling but now after so many years, when it comes to him he can tell what's going on inside her mind. There are times he still finds her a complete enigma and that's a quality he hopes will never change, but in times where she needs his support he's glad he knows when to provide it.

The bubbly attitude she possessed in the courthouse fades quicker than he likes, soon replaced by a tense silence and a rhythmic bounce of her leg, with her fingers drumming on her kneecap. It's ironic how someone usually so cool and collected, someone who can command a room with a low voice, is made feel so anxious by an appointment. An important one at that, and if he isn’t already aware, then this would only prove that she's going to be a great mother. 

The hallway, waiting room, and reception area haven't changed since she was here a few days ago, aside from those waiting to be seen, yet she still scrutinises the place, searching for something else to preoccupy her mind. The plastic chairs creak beneath them as they sit down, her legs crossing with her knee pressing against his, the pointed toe of her black pumps graze his ankle and he looks to the side. Her eyes move over a poster on the wall opposite, then roll to his and the kiss his presses to her knuckle seems to calm her enough to allow a long exhale escape her rigid body. 

"Are you worried?" She suddenly asks, shifting to the edge of her seat to be closer to him, her words so low they could be considered secretive to an onlooker.

"No." 

Her eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Why not?" 

"Because if I worry, it will only make both of your legs bounce." 

She smiles at that, appreciative of his attempt to relieve her. But her eyes wavering from his to the figure lurking in the corner of his eye has his head swinging around again to place a face on the shadow. Diane is on her feet before he has a chance to encourage her and he follows her to the room, closing the door softly behind her. 

"Diane, nice to see you again. Kurt, how are you doing?"

"Good." He nods, easing into the seat beside his wife. 

"I presume Diane told you this appointment is to come up with a plan to monitor the pregnancy?" A confirming nod from Kurt shifts Dr. Collins' attention from him to Diane, "I've been going through your mother's file. A majority of the miscarriages were caused by an abnormality. She couldn't have done anything, it was going to happen."

"A majority?" Diane utters out, shifting in her chair. 

"Three. One was due to hypertension, which you do endure from time to time. Therefore, I would encourage you to go easy at work for the next few weeks. In a few months when you know work is getting too much, you can cut your workload in half."

"Yes, absolutely." 

"OK. I told you we were going to go through the risk factors of your previous miscarriage, which was caused by an abnormality."

"Just like my mother's." 

"Yes.” There's a hesitancy to his words which makes Diane and Kurt look to one another, but Dr. Collins clearing his throat gathers their attention again. "It happened just short of the twelve-week scan when you were thirty-two."

Diane nods, her throat strained as she swallows back the bitter taste of bile; her stomach sickeningly flopping around. Teeth sink into the corner of her lip so deep she's almost drawing blood, but she refuses to give in to the urge to close her eyes. 

"I won't lie, Diane, but age is a factor. You'll be thirty-six when?"

"Two weeks." 

"Now, I'm not saying it's you who is the risk. Age has less to do with the health of your baby versus the health of your body. A forty-year-old woman could be healthier than a twenty-year-old, biologically speaking. Another thing we do have to consider, I'm sure you're aware, is genetics. With your family history, it's not uncommon for a recurrence, but it's also not uncommon for a successful, normal pregnancy. In simpler terms, every woman faces the risk but it doesn't happen to every woman, even someone with your genetic background could have two, three, even four normal, healthy pregnancies. It's down to cell structure as the embryo develops in its first few weeks." 

The room is silent for a moment, the parents-to-be absorbing the information until a sharp, audible inhale of air draws both men's attention to the blonde. "So, it's just a waiting period, there's nothing we can do?" Diane asks with a shrug of her shoulder. 

"Oh, there are things you can do. Sleep enough, eat right, keep yourself healthy. Avoid stress, no more drinking, eat plenty, then eat some more. Believe me, I've had women inform me of how bad the morning sickness is and how crazy the cravings get. As long as you don't start eating dirt, inhaling fire-starters and manage to eat something healthy, I think you'll be just fine." 

She chuckles a little at that, the sound short and barely there but helpful in letting some tension flow from her. Kurt squeezes her hand and she looks at him; there’s a relieved expression on her face, which only unveils further when his thumb swipes across her knuckles. Inside, he too is releasing a deep breath, keeping his concern concealed to ensure that no matter what happens, he's still able to support her. 

"Now, I have a few prenatal vitamin recommendations. It's also very important to start taking Folic Acid." Dr. Collins informs as he pulls a sheet from a brown paper folder and extends his arm. "As I said, these are just recommendations, but they are some of the best brands out there." Diane leans forward to take the sheet and tucks it into her bag at her feet. "The first prenatal appointment is at eight weeks, as you know. Then, your first ultrasound at twelve. By twenty weeks, or even at eighteen weeks you'll be due the morphology scan. This will look for abnormalities in your baby's structural development and growth. It also checks the position of the placenta and makes sure it's functioning properly."

There's so much to take in it takes her a moment to catch it all and lock it away somewhere in her mind where she'll be able to remember it when she needs it most. While there's that fear that her miscarriage was caused due to a hereditary issue, the fact her mother was able to carry her to term gives Diane faith. 

"I think that's all there is to cover at this stage. You know where I am or how to reach me if either of you have any questions.” Dr. Collins offers her a kind smile and rises from his seat just as Diane and Kurt do. 

The men politely shake hands, with the older man welcoming Kurt home as Diane approaches the office door. They walk out almost like new people, and soon enough that's exactly what they'll be. Soon enough, if they take the appropriate measures to ensure that their unborn child is developing healthily, they'll become parents. 

Standing outside the car with his fingers curled loosely around the handle; nearly pulling on it, Kurt's voice startles her softly from her reverie. The expression on his face gives the impression she must still have a look of worry on her own. 

“You okay?” 

She looks over at him, her eyes doe-like and a bright blue, her pupils shrinking in the daylight. When she blinks and opens her mouth, words appear to fail her and Kurt realises this time whatever is on her mind surpasses the worries of the appointment and what they’ve just learned. Closing her mouth, Diane swallows forcibly and reaches for the door handle again. 

“Can we talk about this in the car?” She asks with a slight frown. 

Kurt nods reassuringly, but the concerned look on his face doesn’t go away even when he’s sitting beside her and watching her closely as she buckles her seatbelt and crosses her ankles on the floor. 

“I know we already said we wouldn’t, Kurt. But in there when he was talking about my mother I just kept thinking about what happened between us after it.” 

“Hey it happened, but it’s not going to happen again. We’ve already gone through it once enough to tell us exactly what we need, and that’s each other if it happens. But you heard him Di, just take care of yourself, sleep, eat, take your vitamins. Anything else is beyond your control.” 

_She storms from the kitchen, no longer able to bear staring at him, no longer able to endure the look in his eyes. She knows he’ll follow her, he always does even when she doesn’t want him to or he doesn’t even want to himself. But he does it, _for  them . _So rather than take the obvious path of going straight down the hall to their bedroom she side steps into the den and presses her back to the wall, her hand raising to cover her lips. _

_Her eyes close and a sob, louder than intended, escapes her, her hand doing little to silence the outburst. Tears creep through her lids and lashes and trail down her cheeks, leaving little shiny pathways reflecting on her skin. Another moan breaks through, the sound vibrating against her hand and she blinks her eyes open, the salt of her tears burning them for a moment until she adjusts to the daylight in the room again. _

_Diane wipes her nose with the back of her hand and before she can prevent it, let alone dull it, another sob bursts through her lips. The sound scares her, her hand jittering when she brings it up to clamp over her mouth again and she nearly heaves in a deep breath; so desperate for air it’s like she’s drowning. _

_She’s never felt this way before, never felt so truly broken. Yet if she’s to be asked why she feels so at fault, she couldn’t give an answer. Maybe it’s the fact that’s biological; that it’s her body, it happened _inside_ her. Or how she pushed herself. And now how she’s pushing him, punishing him. But she’s too stubborn to reach out, knows that he probably doesn’t need her to, not anymore. So maybe, in addition to feeling like her body is broken, losing him is also why she’s so distraught. _

_Head against the wall, eyes closed and raining tears, her hand over her mouth with heavy hot breaths perspiring on her hand hovering over her lips, she’s unaware that he’s entered the room. For once his loud amble is silent, or else it’s been drowned out by the sound of her heart thundering in her ears and low, internal whines seeping through her lips._

_He reaches out and grazes her hand hanging at her side, his touch spooking her into flinching and opening her eyes. It takes her a second to blink away the water and give her a clear view of him; his lips dragged into a frown, his eyes as wet as her own minus the glistening trails down his cheeks, his body rigid and tense. As her hand falls from her face he steps to her, his arms curling around her small body when she steps into him; arms right around his neck as she buries her face deep into his neck, holding onto him almost for dear life. _

“Diane I won’t lose you, whether this happens or not. I won’t.” 

She gives a small smile at that, appreciating the determination in his voice. Yet the reassurance doesn’t prevent her voice from deteriorating into a whisper. “I don’t want to lose you.” 

“You _won’t_.” He wipes his thumb over her knuckles, then moves it to brush the back of his fingers against her cheek. 

She leans into his touch, lets it spread warmth through her before reaching out to bring his face to hers. She kisses him timidly, a gentle but meaningful peck that lingers a little longer than intended. 

“So,” he clears his throat and leans back into the seat. “You hungry?" 

A soft chuckle escapes her; the nervousness she's been feeling today gradually fizzling away, and for the first time in days between the anxiety and the morning sickness, she finds herself with an appetite. 

Slipping on her sunglasses, Diane hands him the car keys with a beam. "Actually, yes."


	11. 11

The bittersweet aroma of ground coffee beans draws her from her sleep, her eyes almost rolling as she blinks away her exhaustion and reconnects with the lively, manic rush of the world. Lifting her head from her hand, her eyes thin as she looks at Will in confusion, sitting opposite her on the other couch and reviewing a file with the cause of her awaking in a mug to his left. 

“Will,” She rasps out in a whisper, the word drawing the man’s attention. “What are you doing?”

“Some light reading. I can see why you went to sleep, this is the most boring pro-bono I’ve seen in a while.” Will chimes as he reaches for the coffee mug, then slides it over the table to her.

Her hand tingles and she has to flex her fingers to revive the nerves. She takes it as a sign she has been sleeping for some time and sitting up she draws her legs in to plant them on the floor. With the coffee mug in hand she raises it and holds it in front of her mouth to express her gratitude, before taking a sip. 

The coffee is almost like a kick to her brain; sending a hundred messages hurtling around all of a sudden, like live wires connecting to send little shocks through her sluggish body. 

“What time is it?” She utters, shaking her arm to slide her sleeve down her hand and reveal her watch. 

“Two. You were out for almost two hours.” Will answers without looking up from his reading, the words distracted until he sees Diane nearly lunge up and rush to her desk. 

Will blinks in surprise, his eyebrows raised as he watches her and remains silent. She hisses out a curse and steps into her heels, grabs her bag and keys and once her hands are free, drags her fingers through her tangled locks. 

“Did anyone come looking for me?” Diane asks, rooting through her bag for her phone.

“Not in the last half hour at least.” Will shakes his head, his confusion and suspicion growing with every passing second. 

Turning her phone upright, the first thing she notices is the obvious reminder of her appointment, with a text from Kurt beneath it sent an hour earlier telling her he’ll be coming by to collect her. Will’s voice is distant when he speaks again, his question of concern drawing her slowly from her phone and she has to think about his words before forming an answer. 

“Uh, yeah.” Diane murmurs while Will bobs his head and reverts his gaze to the file. In the corner of his eye, he can make out the shrugging of Diane’s shoulders as she slips her coat on and grabs her bag in a sweeping motion. “Listen, I have a check-up this afternoon. I should be back afterwards. If you find anything worth mentioning you’ll let me know?” 

His eyes thin a little, but the incline of his head is all she notices. “You bet. Are you sure everything’s alright?”

Buttoning her coat, Diane flashes him a small smile and brushes her hair out from beneath her collar. “It’s just routine.”

Will hums, the sceptical sound causing Diane’s steps to stop and she turns to face him. Immediately his hands raise, offering his surrender before she has to utter a word. Yet the slow steps she takes in his direction, her stiletto heels making barely a sound as she almost floats closer. Her head is at a tilt, her left jaw protruding as her chin almost touches her shoulder. He’s seen the look before, knows exactly what it means, and almost kicks himself for getting into it. 

The firm has changed since Kurt has last been here; the most obvious change being the nameplate that greets him the moment the elevator doors open. Approaching the reception, he finds the desk empty and looks around for a moment, waiting patiently. With a drum of his fingers against the smooth wood, he pulls his hand back to his side and walks through the firm. He notices Jonas Stern in the conference room; arched over a desk, palms flat on it as he discusses what Kurt presumes is a case to a room full of younger lawyers. Not seeing his wife, he ambles on towards her office. 

When he gets there and looks through the glass doors, he can only see half of her; mostly her back and considers waiting until he notices she’s rooted in place. With a click of his tongue, Kurt ambles forth and is about to tap the glass of the door to announce his presence when her voice, unexpectedly soft, emits with a simple declaration of a name. 

“Will.”

He forgoes knocking and instead hesitates, lingering half in, half out of her office. 

The two partners seem to have a battle for who can thin their eyes the most without it becoming a squint, until he finally replies with a monotonous drawl of her name; the word is deliberately slow to reveal he’s questioning her. 

“A few weeks ago,” she bounces a closed hand with her pointer finger extended and aimed at him, “you asked if I considered something, aside from having a bug.” 

Will shifts his eyes away from hers in thought, then quickly returns them. “No, I was _about_ to.” 

“Exactly. What was it you were about to ask?” Diane asks, her arms crossing in front of her chest. 

His mouth opens, words about to spill, when his eyes waver over her shoulder. Diane follows his gaze, her eyes instantly lighting up. 

“Kurt, hi.” She smiles in greeting, her previous conversation no longer her main focus. 

“Hey, I sent you...” he gestures towards her, trails off when he sees her nod knowingly. 

“I know, I fell asleep.” She admits, stepping towards him. 

There’s a look of concern on his face at that, considering he’s aware of how little sleep she’s been getting lately, and how little she’s been able to eat. He’s about to question, his jaw tensing for a moment as he prepares to speak when Will clears his throat. Both of them look to the sound and Diane finds Will now standing and almost grinning at her. 

“Kurt, this is one of our new partners Will Gardner.” Diane glances between the two men. “Will, this is my husband, Kurt.” 

A nod of his head comes in lieu of Kurt’s greeting, but before the men can go any further Diane has her hand on Kurt’s forearm. 

“We should be going.” She bounces her eyebrows; a sign of her urgency, then turns to Will. “Don’t get any ideas about this office while I’m out. If you want a corner office go fight Howard for his.” 

A smug grin is all she receives and Diane points at him warningly before following her husband towards the elevators. Silence lingers between them from the elevator to the truck; both have various conversation topics to discuss, just neither possess the intention to start something yet, easily comfortable in each other’s presence. He’s been reviewing possible cases all morning, hoping the job offers would preoccupy his mind and for a while they would, until he’d take a break to refill his coffee mug or have a bite to eat. His mind wandered to Diane most of the time, his worry more to do with how she’s feeling about today rather than the results of the scan. 

They have forty minutes before they’re due at the appointment, but the time they have to spare doesn’t stop Diane from twirling her ring around her finger. Being stuck in traffic doesn’t make it any easier for them and Kurt extends his hand to cover hers in her lap. When their eyes meet she smiles; an unexpected reaction, but the best kind and the one he’ll take over anything.

“That Will seems to be quite the character.” Kurt muses aloud, making Diane chuckle. 

“You have no idea.” She wriggles a hand out from beneath his to cover it, her finger brushing over the hills and dips of his knuckles and the skin between. “He’s really not as smug as he wants you to believe. He’s actually... gooey.”

Kurt chuckles at that, his eyes shifting from hers to the road again. “Odd way to describe someone.” 

“When I was first hit with the nausea, we barely knew one another and it was him who came to check on me.” 

“Why am I not surprised.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Stern and Lyman.” 

“Oh.” Diane shrugs her shoulder. “You know I don’t take notice of them anymore.”

Kurt hums, but she can still sense his disappointment. He’s seen the tribulations she’s endured over the past decade as she made her way through the legal world. And while she fought to make her corner of the world a little more right and a little more just, her good deeds seemed to have little effect on her earning the same justification in equality. Her eyes follow her finger as she glides it over his skin, words fading into silence between them again. 

“I think he knows.” Diane blurts, looking up. 

“Who?”

“Will. I think he knows I’m pregnant.” Her words make Kurt glance quickly at her. 

There’s a frown on her face, pulling her heart shaped lips down. Lines crease her forehead, engraved in her skin from the subtle raise of her eyebrows. With a series of fluttering blinks and a sigh, her attention wanes to outside the window as they arrive at the hospital. 

Deep inside, she’s relieved she’s not as anxious as she had been weeks earlier. Years ago they never even got this far and while there’s still the possibility it may not go their way, she’s got faith that ultimately it will all work out. When the engine ceases they remain sitting in silence, with a sparse five minutes left before they’re scheduled to be seen. Diane reaches for her bag and the door handle when Kurt covers her knee with his hand, the warmth of his skin seeping through the light material of her trousers. Looking around at him, Diane finds him facing her in his seat, his other hand hanging from his own knee beneath the wheel. 

“What have you told him?” Kurt asks upon leaning back, his interest almost making her smile appreciatively. 

Diane sinks back into the seat and keeps her eyes on his. “Nothing. You know I don’t want anyone to know until we find out the results today.” 

Kurt tilts his head forward in an understanding nod. “It’s gonna be alright.” 

A sigh escapes her as she simpers at him, her eyes glazed with adoration. “I know. But there won’t be a scan if we don’t...” she tilts her head in the direction of the hospital entrance.

Kurt, before reaching for the door, moves his hand to grasp hers and presses a soft kiss to her fingers.

They wander through the hallways, occasionally murmuring to one another as they turn every corner. After approaching a nurse at the reception desk and announcing their reason for being there, they're whisked off to a small waiting room for no longer than a few minutes before being led down another corridor to a small, dark room. They're left alone for a moment and Diane waits until the nurse shuts the door after stepping out before shrugging her coat off. 

She sets her bag and blazer to the plastic chair besides Kurt and eases her way onto the bed while surveying the equipment on the opposite side of the bed to him. She expels a breath and Kurt places a comforting hand over hers as the door swings open and a small woman with auburn coloured hair sleeked back in a neat ponytail greets them, her voice a lot more cheery than Diane anticipates. 

They listen as the sonographer goes over the routine expectations, Kurt’s fingers held against Diane's palm as she curls her hand around his. His eyes waver to her but she's still preoccupied on the sonographer so by the time her attention is no longer on the other woman, her hand has parted from his to unbutton her shirt just enough to reveal the small hill of her bump. With some paper sheets tucked into the waistband of her trousers Diane's hands fall back to her sides and she once again grasps Kurt's hand, the two exchanging a meaningful look as the sonographer swipes the transducer device across Diane's bump. 

The small screen is dark and blurry and the parents to be watch and wait eagerly, each holding their breath until a small, sharp gasp shoots into the room.

"There he  _or_ she is." The sonographer smiles at them and looks at them both, but neither seems to notice. "I'll give you two a moment alone. When I come back we can go through any questions you have and I’ll tell you what scan will be next.”

Diane gives the woman a small smile of appreciation but her gaze doesn't stray from the screen for more than a few seconds. When the door closes a small, gaspy laugh escapes Diane, the monitor growing hard to see as her eyes water up. With her lip quivering and a tiny tear trailing down her cheek, she looks at Kurt who's come around to the other side of the bed. They're both closely watching the screen, barely even blinking as the tiny shadow of their creation greets them for the first time.

"That's our baby." Diane whispers after a moment, looking at Kurt as she brings a hand up to wipe beneath her eyes. 

He doesn't answer, and when Diane looks at him she can see why. While he'd made no heaving or snuffling sounds, his eyes still have their shiny glossiness glazing over them to tell her he too is just as emotional. Reaching out, she brushes the backs of her fingers against his cheek and can feel the dampness there. A part of her wants to mention it, let him know that he doesn't have to hide his emotions; especially not from her. But she doesn't, if only to spare his pride. Still, it makes her heart swell with adoration. 

"They're gorgeous." He finally speaks, beaming at her and alternating his eyes between the screen and hers. 

Humming almost dreamily, Diane drops her head back against the bed. "They are."

Kurt glances at her bump before moving his eyes to hers. She's watching him intently, her red lips curled at the corners. He brings a hand up and swipes the corner of her eye with his thumb, wiping away the dark residue of her mascara. 

"I could stay here all day and just watch them." Diane sighs, staring back to the screen, but then with a wince she looks at him again. "Unfortunately I think my bladder disagrees." 

Kurt snorts a soft laugh and offers a hand to help her sit up. They move in silence from there, her wiping the gel residue from her skin and buttoning her shirt while Kurt grabs her bag and coat from the chair. Just as she slips from the bed a gentle knock rattles the hollow wooden door and the sonographer peeps in, further stepping in upon their encouragement. There's a small card in her hand and when she offers it to Diane, she doesn't have to look at it to know they're scan photographs. 

  
“Right. We can start by me answering your questions or I can go over some routine things with you.”

”Routine?” Diane asks, the word drowned with curiosity.

The nurse gives a reassuring smile. “Simple things like the growth of the baby during each month, what to expect, labour. Or if you have questions then by all means ask.”

  
She thinks for a moment, knowing she has so many questions to ask. Any moment she’s had the chance lately she’s been researching; probably not the best thing to do, but she can’t help it. Even in work, her mind is frequently wandering off into thoughts of the baby, which only leads to more and more worries and questions. And now, it’s like she’s gone blank, finally faced with the opportunity to ease her conscience and yet she can’t.

”Oh,” Diane hums, her lips twitching into an almost embarrassed smile when she realises how long she’s been silent. “Well, I’m not as young as the women I’m sure you see in here. Will my age affect the baby?”

“Generally speaking, no. If you were mid-forties it could be a different answer, but from your health chart your body is functioning as healthily as it can. Whatever you’re doing, just keep that up.”   
  


“And the... _routine_?” The scepticism in her voice isn’t concealed, she doesn’t even try to hide it.   
  


The nurse eyes Kurt for a quick second but doesn’t get a response from him, so her eyes go to Diane’s again and she begins with an overview of how her body will change, what to expect month by month, and the best preparations for pre-birth, birth, and post-birth. By the time she’s finished, Diane has learned more than any research could possibly tell her.

Like sacred relics Diane holds the photographs with both hands and all too eagerly expresses her gratitude to the technician, who leaves them alone again. 

This time walking through the hospital no longer feels like she's pulling the weight of the world behind her, she no longer feels like everything can fall apart. And finally, she finds she can truly breathe. As someone approaches them in the narrow pale yellow coloured hallway, she steps behind Kurt and rather than move back to his side she just slips her hand into his. He looks over his shoulder at her and she shrugs her shoulders, a smile accompanying the move and he squeezes her hand.

Inside the truck they sit almost facing one another and Diane hands him a photograph, both of them still not yet ready to give their eyes and hearts a break from their little one. Diane reluctantly slips the photograph back into the small bundle they got and looks over at her husband, his eyes shifting across every detail, from the  _McVeigh, Diane_ to the  _4/10_.

He offers the photograph to her and just as he's about to sit back, he slips his finger into the opening between two buttons of her shirt, inching her closer. Smiling knowingly after she places the photo back with the rest, Diane turns to look at him and lets her eyes close as she presses her lips to his.

"So,  _Baby McVeigh_ , huh."

"Don't you dare." Diane points at him, her eyes opening widely. 

Kurt chuckles. "What?"

"I'm carrying this baby, I'm birthing this baby. This baby is a Dem." 

With a smirk thrown in her direction, Kurt starts the truck and looks at her again; his eyebrows are raised and there's a mischievous look on his face. "We'll see."


	12. 12

A high pitched scream from a car horn pulls him from his sleep and Kurt groggily opens his eyes, a sigh of annoyance coming from him as he burrows his head deeper into his pillow. It doesn’t come to him that there’s a window open somewhere, a light breeze wafting over the bedroom; ruffling sheets in one of Diane’s open files on the table near the window. The light creeping into the room doesn’t bother him, it never has, unlike Diane who can’t sleep unless the room is blackened out. Neither does it occur to him that the other side of the bed is empty, until he rolls over in the attempt to curl into his wife and finds her missing.

It’s amusing to them both how, despite always being independent— to an extent, that they’ve come to rely on one another, to need one another so much. Especially having spent so many months apart; sleeping alone, her at home working alone, cooking without his help, culinary expertise, and comfortable silence or their intimate conversations at the dinner table. Him, away somewhere risking his life, honouring his country. And both of them wondering and worrying about the other, so desperately wishing for the next letter, the next update, both nearly grasping at straws for comfort. 

So waking up now, alone in bed after quickly readjusting to her presence beside him every night instinctively comes to his attention; immediately makes him glance around. With a low grunt, the early morning hour seems to put a damper on the strength and energy he usually possesses during the day and Kurt realises she must be in the bathroom. At ease he melts into the bed again, knowing she’s no more than ten feet away; almost at arms length. 

The bed sheets are cold, the quilt rumpled, her pillow still dented from where her head had been laying. Yet despite the traffic zooming by the window like a droning lullaby, it’s the scratching of paper still blowing softly from the wind that has his eyes dragging open again. His side of the bed is soon rumpled too, the covers pushed down to the bottom half of the bed when he emerges from his warm cocoon of comfort and sleep to close the window. His bare feet meet the cold hardwood floor and the window slams with a thud when it closes and he makes sure to lock it, avoiding a possible draft. The last thing he needs is his pregnant wife to get sick. 

However a cough, a groan, and a thump makes him rethink that, his hand holding the duvet hovers midair as he listens to the low sounds coming from behind the bathroom door. He’d been still half-asleep when he was walking about, but he’s awake and alert now. The light creeping out beneath the white door gives the room a slightly, almost unnoticeable glow that fades into the darkness.

When he pushes the bathroom door open he grimaces, the bright light harsh on his tired eyes. Yet the sight of his wife clutching the toilet with one hand, the other draped across her belly, and leaning over it, her body jerking as she begins to retch again, catches his attention. Kurt rushes to her and calls out her name to announce his presence before he reaches out to pull her hair behind her ears. Slipping her hair beneath one hand pressing to the back of her head, he smooths his other hand over her back; trying to offer some comfort. 

It’s not the first time he’s held her hair off her face and tried to provide some comfort when she’s endured the exhausting ordeal of nausea and vomiting. After ten years of being together, some things really come to pay off; like knowing how to help the other in the least prettiest situations, such as caring for one another when one gets sick. It took him time to earn that trust, to gain access to her vulnerable side. Two years, to be exact. Yet he wouldn’t trade those two years— or any other, for the world. Learning to live with her, how to adjust to her ways and come to love her presence and personality, has undoubtedly been his greatest achievement. His proudest accomplishment. And now, despite the turmoil and pain losing their baby four years ago caused, creating a new life with her and watching her nurture them from the inside out, knowing in a few months their baby will greet them and will be raised by them, it’s like clicking the final puzzle piece into the frame; the painting of a new beginning. A new life. 

“Easy.” Kurt murmurs to her when she nearly snaps her head up, his hand on her back going to the base of her neck right between her shoulders. 

A moan escapes her when she finishes and Kurt reaches to flush the toilet, allowing her to regain her energy. She sniffs loudly and clears her throat, the sounds loud and echoing around the bathroom. After that there’s silence, the intimacy of the situation not making it comfortable, but not making it uncomfortable either. Her eyes flutter with her exhaustion, burning at the touch of air and burn even more when closed; unfair, in her mind.

Her hand on her belly reaches out, her arm shaking and only stilling when it grips Kurt’s; his hold on her hair easing away to let the stringy, blonde locks fall to frame her face. 

“I woke you up.” Diane points out with a hoarse voice, her tone apologetic. 

“Car horn, actually.” 

“I felt nauseous and opened the window. Didn’t help much though did it?” Diane coughs out a short laugh, her knees straightening out to extend her legs into their entire length. 

Kurt smiles a little at that, his lips pursing to kiss her sticky temple and he kneels down to sit behind her. His hand slides up and down her back, gliding over the curve of her spine as she bows; her arm resting on the toilet seat with her head resting on it. Cautiously relaxed and letting him shuffle closer until he’s almost hugging her from behind, Diane finds herself drifting; halfway between unconsciousness and awareness. It’s an uncertain battle, one side appearing to be more destined to win, until suddenly its the losing side, then once again, the winning side. The warmth he provides and the calming moves he graces her with don’t help with her fight against exhaustion either, but they do seem to cure her nausea for a moment. 

“What time is it?” Diane asks sleepily, the words slurred from the position of her cheek against her arm. 

“Almost four.” 

A grunt comes from her and a sigh deflates her body. He already knows he’ll be awake for the rest of the night, like a guard on duty. He’ll encourage her to sleep when her sickness has eased and he’ll stay awake to ensure she doesn’t start vomiting in her sleep. 

“You still nauseous?” He asks, leaning aside to look at her. 

His eyebrow is arced in a concerned bow, his hair falling to the left and he finds her eyes are closed, her cheek pulled up causing her lips to be awkwardly parted, and her hair is clung to her sticky forehead; shiny with drying sweat. 

“A little.” She rasps, a loud swallow forcing the vile aftertaste back. 

Diane opens her eyes slowly, the corner of her mouth tugging up when she sees the flop of his hair and Kurt watches her eyes shift from his to his hair— a habitual trait of hers he tends to catch her doing at least once a day. When he first noticed it early in their relationship the glance almost confused him, but considering how she loves to run her fingers though his hair, and tug at it when possible, he learned quickly that her eyes wandering above his is actually a good thing.

His hand comes to a stop on her back and she feels the warmth of his body fade away as he stands and leaves the room. A small hum is all she expresses, her eyes closing again as she leans further against the toilet. When he returns there’s a glass of water in his hand, ice-cold and his fingerprints are clearly seen after he’s offered it to her, the vapour outside the glass beginning to drip to the floor. She sips it, using the dribble to wash out her mouth before spitting it into the toilet. As she leans forward, she feels the soft fabric of a throw-over cover her shoulders.

Kurt eases to the floor again, his hand on her knee with his thumb brushing over her kneecap in soft strokes, over the hill of the bone to the base of her knee, then back up to the base of her thigh. His other hand rests on her side, his fingers pressing into the crease of her upper thigh and hip, and the position encourages Diane to sluggishly move into his lap with her head resting on his shoulder, forehead pressed into his jaw.

“Go to sleep,” Kurt murmurs whilst twisting his mouth to kiss her forehead, his hand on her side moving up to her shoulder, outside the blanket. “I’ll keep an eye on you.” 

“You need sleep too.” Diane protests, or at least attempts to, but her words come out slurred and drowsy and the silence that follows offers her submission to defeat.

“I can catch up in the afternoon, you’ll be going all day.” 

She seems satisfied with his answer, content that he knows she still intends to go to work in a mere couple of hours. Whether or not that will definitely happen though, is whether she can even breathe without hurling. Her body enters a state near liquidity as she dozes, her lashes fluttering against the underside of his jaw as she drifts into a slumber, her eyelids like soft curtains as they close over her eyes to give them some reprieve. The ministrations are ticklish against his skin but he doesn’t budge and instead he remains sitting there rigidly like a statue with his fingers extending then pulling back as he brushes them over her arm. 

His hand resting on her knee draws back and he slips it under her legs, not moving yet, but waiting patiently. Her breathing is wheezy and light, in softly through her nose, exhaled almost imperceptibly aside from the gentle wheeze and the warm air that creeps past the skin of his neck a second after she’s breathed out. He’s almost sure she’s asleep, albeit lightly, until she stirs against him. His hands move to grip her immediately, ready to follow her as she reaches for the toilet, but instead she burrows deeper against him. 

“I’m sorry I ruined dinner.” Diane murmurs softly, her eyes remaining closed, her breathing growing deeper.

“You did nothing of the sort.” 

“Really?” She looks up at him slowly, the shift against his shoulder bringing Kurt’s head down to make eye contact. “Your wonderful meal just ended up being regurgitated.” 

“Least I know it wasn’t because it was disgusting.” 

A small chuckle comes from her, a tired, lazy one; low and fading away as she lets out a sigh, slumping into him. 

“Not the ideal way to spend a birthday.” Diane muses after a moment, causing Kurt to smile. 

“Happy birthday.” 

The scoff he earns makes him grin, another kiss being pressed to her forehead. Despite the reassurance she still feels guilty. She’s been so confident her morning sickness has been subsiding, her body gradually entering the second trimester, that when she was surprised by a romantic dinner; her favourite dish, prepared by her favourite person, she had no fear in devouring it. The only thing that could have made it better was a glass of red wine, however, she’s got her priorities in check, and if there’s one thing she intends to do, it’s endure whatever her pregnancy throws at her to welcome a healthy baby into the world. 

When Diane looks up at him again, a smile adorns her lips. A part of her wants to lean up, press a soft kiss to his, express her gratitude for all he’s doing for her, but there’s also the factor she’s just been arched over the toilet gagging. He seems to see her inner conflict and leans down, his forehead pressed against hers, nose pressed beside hers, and another small snicker comes from her at her own self-consciousness. They’ve been together for the better part of their lives, have seen each other at their worst, and yet, despite all that, she still finds herself shy in moments with the one person she’s never been afraid of being herself around. He’s always had a way of drawing her out of her shell, of climbing over her walls, without ever growing tired of it. In time, she learned to let him in without the challenge, learned to trust him, no longer held herself back. 

He saw the delicate soul possessed by the woman who wore the world like armour. 

She draws back suddenly, but Kurt finds her eyes aren’t fixated on his nor his mouth, but on what’s above it. She raises an arm from beneath the blanket and brushes her finger over it and for a moment he sits in confusion, wondering if she’s so far beyond exhaustion that she’s become overtired, leading her to fall into an almost dazed trance. He’s seen it before and while it may be entertaining in the beginning, he’d much more prefer getting her into bed to catch up on sleep. The last thing she needs now is to fall behind or get run down, which will undoubtedly lead to her immune system weakening, and he doesn’t want her or the baby at risk. 

“I never told you, but you’re really handsome with a moustache.” Diane looks up at him, her hand falling down between them again. 

Kurt snorts at that, nodding subtly at the words. He tries preoccupying her mind, help her body relax, forget any thoughts of morning sickness. “So I’m not good looking without it?” 

“Oh you are.” She reassures, her finger combing across it again, “But...”

“ _ But _ ?” 

Her teeth sink into her lip and she grins at him, eyes batting for exaggerated emphasis, her tongue wiping her lips. 

“It’s sexy.” 

“Huh.”

“What?” 

“You say the most ridiculous things when you’re tired.” 

“I’m not being ridiculous. It really suits you.”

“If you say so.” 

“I do.” Diane confirms, her head returning to his chest when satisfied her words have been considered. 

Beneath the blanket, her palm rests on his side, her fingers grazing him softly as she settles against him. She wants to ask if he intends to go back to bed, considering her nausea has worn off, but she knows the obvious answer is that he doesn’t intend to move just in case it returns. He’s dropped his head back, awkwardly resting it on the wall in a position that will result in a stiff neck and she knows why he’s doing that, too; avoiding any pressure on her head and neck.

“I love you.” Diane says clearly, her words free of any rasp or murmur, the obvious statement consumed by one thing; love. 

The words, no matter when said; be it a genuine, heartfelt utterance like this, or an exclamation when something goes right, such as him looking over a file and pointing out something her tired eyes have missed, always makes him smile. A curl of the corners of his lips twitching up into a smile, a rare one; one Diane has had the most luck in drawing out.

“I love you,” Kurt responds after a moment, his arm tending around her as he leans down to kiss her hair. “Now go to sleep, I’ll wake you for work.”

A small hum comes from her, accepting that she’s finally losing that battle against exhaustion and he’s rather content about it. Holding her to him with no intention of letting go, arms positioned specifically to aid her in reaching the toilet on time, he rubs one over her back. With one more kiss to her hair, he rests his head back against the wall, and looks up at the ceiling. He has no intention of calling her in a few hours for work and he has a feeling she won’t be so annoyed when she finds herself back in bed sometime in the late morning. 

He’s not sure how much time has passed since he’s been sitting there, listening to her breathing. But eventually the strength of the bathroom light wears off when the beginnings of the morning light; sunrise, starts peeping through. It took him a while to adjust to city living in the past, considering all he truly ever knew was farmland. Not seeing the sun until it had risen above low-rise buildings, not seeing the stars through the street light, not seeing the sunset as often as he used to was quite a difference. Not to mention the sound of heavy traffic, construction work and people chatter. Yet now it’s the most normal thing and returning to the countryside, now with Diane, is almost like a treasured treat.

“ _ Almost there.” He announces, the excitement in his voice palpable and only making Diane smile.  _

_ She’s unsure about what’s so interesting and exciting but whatever his need-to-see view is, she knows it won’t be a disappointment. Nothing ever is with him. _

_ Diane watches as he climbs up a small mud bank; covered with moss, sparse grass, twigs and dirt. And even though she’s been out here more times in the past two years than she ever was in the country within her lifetime, she still hesitates and he knows it too.  _

_So he leans down and offers his hand to which she grabs onto and allows him to drag her up the tiny hill, the force of h_is _pull making her collide with him like she’s giving him a hug and she cannot help but sneak a light, unexpected kiss of gratitude to his mouth before turning away._

_“Over here.” Kurt finally voices, gesturing with his other hand to the small clearing between trees. _

_He leads her across, keeps a firm grip on her hand and she curls her other around his forearm for security whilst following him. _

_For the second time that night she asks, “Kurt, where are we going?” _

_And once again he gives her the usual response, “You’ll see.” _

_ She shakes her head but smiles nonetheless, still walks at his side until his body comes to a slow, then a stop. He faces her, then cocks his head towards the clearing.  _

_ “Have a look.”  _

_Diane eyes him in the darkness of the forest. Before the mere concept of walking through a forest at night, in the dark, would utterly terrify her. But knowing she has him, knowing that most likely about thirty feet away is his parents house, that fear is nowhere to be felt._

_Her eyes waver from his to the clearing and the navy sky with its twinkling glimmers of silver that dull then brighten, sparkling almost like they’re waving at them, catches her breath._

He can feel her stir when he lifts her from the ground and makes an effort to bring her back to bed, no longer wanting to have her sleep on the floor. He doesn’t stop moving and when he gets to the bed he, as carefully as possible, lowers her; head and body first, then legs. He drags the duvet over her, slips his hand beneath her head to raise it and tucks his pillow beneath it, propping her up just in case she gets sick. 

Kurt eyes her for a moment, hesitant about leaving her even to make a quick trip to the kitchen. But seeing her lay still, he dashes and makes way to the kitchen for a glass of water and a basin. When he returns to the bedroom she’s on her side, her knees drawn up from the shape of the covers over her. Kurt places the glass of water to the bedside locker and the basin to the edge of the bed where his pillow usually covers, makes a round to open the window again and draw the curtain he’d pushed back earlier last night. When he sits beside her, one hand naturally extends to rest on her leg, the other grasping his book on his locker. 

In silence he shares his attention between his book and his wife, most of his attention being devoted to her— as usual. Yet this time it’s not only willingly tending to her. It’s like a primal, protective response; a duty to protect her and their child. The notion catches his breath and Kurt places the book to his lap, his eyes travelling from Diane’s relaxed jaw to her hand at her side on the pillow, then lower to the covers pressed to the shape of her torso and waist, hiding her bump— _their baby_, and yet he knows they’re there. Growing, resting, safe, and completely draining their mother of energy. All this for a baby, it astounds him. _She_ astounds him. Not once, not even in times like this over the past weeks has she dared to utter a word of irritation, frustration or made a complaint. He knows she’s not trying, she doesn’t have to. There are no complaints, no annoyances, irritations; she’s carrying their baby and she’s  _ happy _ . 

Eventually he returns to his book but not for long as she stirs soon after, her leg stretching out quickly and pushing Kurt’s hand to the side of the bed by her knee. He closes the book, no longer interested in it and opts to watch her wake; he waits until he’s certain she’s waking before leaning over to put his book on the locker, then shift closer to her. 

Her blue eyes are on him when he meets them, a gentle gaze coming from them and Kurt smiles; the silent interaction all that’s exchanged for a few minutes. 

“Hi.” She whispers in time, her smile mirroring his. 

“Hello.” He returns, his hand reaching for hers and covering it on the pillow. 

Diane gathers the strength to close her fingers around it and bring it to her lips; grazing the back of his hand with them for a moment in peppering kisses. 

“Have you slept?” Diane asks in a low tone, her throat clearly irritated from the evening’s catastrophe. 

“Yeah.” He nods and reaches over for the water on the locker. 

“Really?” She queries and raises her eyebrow, informing him, in silence, that she knows he’s lying. His nod only makes her snort. “Oh my God you’re such a bad liar.” 

“And you’re any different?” He asks with a hint of a smirk, his little comeback making her eyebrow return to neutral level and her lips curl up in a guilty grin. 

“Only when it comes to you.” She amends as she takes the glass from him and sips it, wetting her lips and mouth first, then her throat.

“Nauseous?” Kurt asks when she hands him the glass but she shakes her head. 

“No, just tender.” She gestures to her throat, the raspiness of her voice proving how coarse it is. 

“I’ll make you some tea. Do you want to eat something?” 

Kurt rises from the bed but never takes his eyes from hers. With patience he waits as she turns onto her back and sits up, using the move to contemplate her food choices and opts for the safest. 

“Some toast?”

“You got it.” Kurt nods and heads to the door only to turn when he hears his name. 

“Kurt,” Diane calls, “I love you.” 

He smiles at that and ambles back to the bed, round to her side and she follows him with her eyes; eventually having to stare up at him until he sits by her legs to become eye level. He just leans in, her eyes closing before his lips touch hers, dragging them between his in a deep lip-dance that takes her breath away.

“I love you.” Kurt breathes against her lips upon parting, prompting her to press her forehead to his.

She stays like that, gradually shaking her head in very subtle movements to brush her nose across his cheek, her eyes closed. Their breathing is nearly in sync, his hand covering hers on her lap again and for the moment the outside sounds disappear. There’s no thought of what’s happening outside their home, no notion of moving or parting from each other. It’s just them living, just them together— in their little bubble. 

They would have stayed that way a lot longer, just wanting to stay with one another and let go of the little synchronisation they’ve learned to create over the years; a natural phenomenon that occurs so often now they rarely take the time, like now, to realise it. It’s a special bond, one Kurt knows could possibly not exist and one they both treasure after almost losing each other years ago. Yet the low, whining sound that emerges from her stomach makes him pull back. While she may deny her hunger, her body clearly defeats the deception. 

“Toast.” He affirms once more, his hand brushing across her upper arm as he stands. 

“Please.” She smiles up at him, her blue eyes flecked with beams of white light that peep through the curtains. 

Kurt nods and steps around the bed, his hand going to the back of his neck to loosen a knot as he enters the kitchen. Set on making her breakfast as fast as possible he hastily grabs the toaster and bread, and as he’s preparing her breakfast he becomes aware of her presence lingering in the entryway to the kitchen. The moment he pushes the switch he turns around, his hand pressing to his hip as his eyes find hers. 

“Diane..:”

“I can stand. I’m not dying, it’s just morning sickness.” 

“I know, but...” 

Diane presses her head to the wall and rests it there, a hint of a smile on her rose tinted lips and her hands cross above her prodding belly. She’s not as defined in her loose t-shirt than she would be in a slim fit dress, the addition of her bathrobe; open with the ends of the belt hanging at her sides cover her sides, revealing just the front of her bump. 

“I know, Kurt.” Diane puts him at ease, easily sensing his concern. She approaches him and slinks an arm around his neck, her lips grazing his cheek as she hugs him. “I’m going back to bed, for both yours and the baby’s sake.”

When Diane leans back to see his face there’s a coy smile, although shining in her eyes is the seriousness of her words. Her words don’t comfort him, it’s the way she says them— the way she  _ means _ them. Her hand trails away from his shoulder when she moves away and she throws him another loving look as she steps out of the kitchen and back to their bedroom. 

In bed, eyes jumping between lines on a few pages of Kurt’s book, Diane relaxes beneath the covers, sinking deeper into the warm sanctuary of her bed. She has no idea of time. Nothing — not even work — has phased her today. She’s so swept up in their hectic early Thursday morning and now the later morning, that even existing to the outside world beyond the confines of the walls of their house is a strenuous feat. It makes her chuckle and clearly it’s the wrong moment to be amused, for when Kurt returns to the bedroom he finds her laughing at his book.

“What?” He asks as he gets closer, resulting in the slightest tilt of her head that ruffles and fizzes messy, unkept blonde hair. 

“I’m just thinking of how, for the first time in I don’t know how long, I don’t want to be away from home.” She reveals with a shy look, her eyebrows, fawn in colour, coming close together and then raising before resting. 

He’s always found the way she expresses herself with them to be amusing, like moving art. They’re like little giveaways of her emotions, curved above her eyes; furrowing when in thought, raising in surprise, pulled down in fury. In the beginning of their relationship, and even months into it when he felt like he still didn’t know her, her eyebrows when she was reading a file or if they were having a small dispute, mostly likely politics-related, were how he knew her emotions. Being a lawyer seemed to teach her how to make her voice emotionless if needed. At least, he muses, he hasn’t heard her voice void of emotion in a  long time. 

“This book is uh... something.” Diane teases as she closes it again and let’s it sit on the side of the bed; no longer interested by it now that he’s here. 

Kurt shakes his head with the hint of a coy smile. “You enjoy Tolstoy. I enjoy history.” 

“Clearly.” She responds quickly and when Kurt sits on the bed next to her legs she reaches for his hand. “It’s a good interest.” 

He holds her gaze while placing the plate of toast on her legs, his brown eyes looking tired, but pleased. Her confirmed suspicion is doubly confirmed when Kurt opts to lay besides her as she eats, his head resting on the pillow, forehead against her arm.

“You should sleep Kurt, it’s not fair on you.” Diane stops chewing in order to speak, her hand moving to cup his cheek; the heel of her hand on his cheek while her fingers curl beneath his jaw and she uses her nails to drag softly across his skin in soothing ministrations. 

“I’ll be fine. Besides you shouldn’t have to be the only one suffering.” He grumbles out, obviously becoming too relaxed besides her. 

Her heart warms and Diane, now finished with breakfast places her plate to her bedside locker and turns over to face him, gradually slinking back down beneath the covers. “Are you going to work today?” Diane asks with a breath, relaxing besides him.

“And miss this?” Kurt looks at her, his hand grasping hers. 

“You can go, Kurt. I’ll be fine.” Diane inches closer to kiss his shoulder. 

“I know. But I want to be here.” Kurt angles his head down to kiss her hair and finally accepting his words, she drags her leg over him. 

“I should probably call work first.” Diane is about to roll off him but he holds onto her, repeats a series of no’s as he does.

“Call them later. You need sleep.” 

Her reluctance doesn’t last long and she’s resting half-on-half-off him again in seconds. 

“I think my morning sickness could begin to wear off in the coming weeks.” Diane murmurs against his chest.

“Why do you think that?”

“I’ve been doing some reading and some women carry it through their whole pregnancy. Others tend to stop after sixteen weeks.” 

“You’re thirteen weeks now.”

“Exactly. So hopefully it’s just two or three more weeks.” She looks up at him and he nods. 

“Good. I’m  _ sick _ of you by now.” 

A laugh escapes her and he smiles as he pulls her as close as her bump and their position allows, his arm curled around her shoulder and his lips finding her forehead. 

“I love you Di.” His words graze her forehead and Diane closes her eyes, revelling in the words and the feeling. 

“I know. I love you.” 


	13. 13

His eyes flicker to his wife's restless figure, shifting every couple of seconds in her seat. It's unusual seeing her be the uneasy one, especially when it's her that calms his zealously bobbing leg by placing a hand to his knee or ceases the drumming of his fingers against his thigh by lacing her fingers with his. He'd offered to drive but she insisted, opting to use it as a way to preoccupy her mind rather than spend a half-hour drive thinking of all the negative ways her parents, or to be more specific, her mother, could respond. However, her driving doesn't seem to have helped considering she still moves subconsciously in her seat as if she can't get comfortable. 

He watches admirably, knowing she's too busy keeping her eyes on the road ahead to notice his adoring glare. The sky is a mixture between blue and purple, the sun gone down but the moon not quite up and the hedges accompanying the lonesome road appear black. One thing she always liked about her home when growing up was its privacy; the house so tall and bold; its presence intimidating; but to her the building, her home, was a place of sanctuary that she enjoyed visiting during law school breaks. It was as if she could recuperate there, not have to worry about the hasty rush of time and its effect on the world and its people. Like time stopped there. Only tonight, she has a feeling it will seem like time has stopped for a completely reason.

She put off leaving work as much as she could but eventually, as he usually does, Kurt caught on to her tactics and decided to come by and see just how busy she really was. 

_“Swamped huh?” He announces his presence with the gruff remark, hovering in the entryway of her office. _

_She spins around rapidly, the chair almost tilting over in her haste. Piercing blue eyes meet his but there is no sign of guilt or confirmation within them. Yet they appear darker than the usual light tone and Kurt suspects she’d been deep in thought while staring out at the city._

_“Can’t I take a few minutes to look out the window while I think?” comes the blunt, humourless response. _

_Kurt’s eyebrows raise when he hears her words, quick to realise he's hit a nerve. A slow step towards her desk makes her sigh, drop her face into her palms and drag her head back to rest it against her chair. A sign of immediate regret, he doesn't take her words personally. He knows what she's going through, at least he tries to understand, in order to be as helpful and honest as he can be with her. Especially in times like this; because when it comes to it, he knows she'll do the same for him. It's one of the reasons they work so well together, that respect to understand and learn, despite of challenging and painful._

_“I’m sorry, I just... I’m so worried, Kurt.” Diane nearly whispers as she leans forward to plant her elbows on her desk, her hands clasping with her chin resting on top of her knuckles._

_“I know," He puffs out a silent breath from his pursed, concealed lips, "But if you don’t want to tell them, then we can wait.” _

_“I can’t hide it much longer, Kurt. These blazers and jackets work wonders here. They may work well with the law but half of them out there don't even know what way is up and what is down." A short flick of her hand. Oh boy. "Away from the office my clothes are useless.”_

_"I could agree with that." A simple shrug, a simper of mischief, and blue eyes blinking with laughter. "Rough day?"_

_"The blinks ceased when eyelids closed. "I had to fire a paralegal and her friend didn't take it lightly. That's what? Enemy number four-hundred-and-twenty-seven?"_

_"You can't please them all." _

_Diane's eyes open again to land on his, waiting for her. She says nothing, just presses her chin to her knuckle and looks away to the side. As if he's inside her head he knows what she's thinking about and intentionally swings his arm from his side to push his coat back and put his hand on his hip; the move attracting her attention._

_“It’s one dinner and a career-orientated conversation until you decide to bring up the baby. After the news you can decide whether you want to stay or leave.” _

_“I wish it was that simple.”_

_“It can be.” _

_She scoffs at that, her lips tightening into a thin, expressionless smile. “You’ve truly become quite the lawyer, haven’t you?”_

_Diane rises from behind her desk and side steps around her desk, her fingertips dragging across the glass and falling to her side. Glossy, black stilettos add a few inches to her naturally tall stature, almost making them eye-level. He can finally see some lightness in her eyes, her anxiety fading? He’s unsure, but what he’s certain of is the glaze of amusement now glistening in her blue irises. _

_A hint of a smirk. “Guess I’ve learned to adapt to their ways from being around them so much.” _

_She stops just in front of him the tiny smile on her face disappearing when her lips open. A small grunt comes from her then the swing of her arm that hits his just beneath his shoulder. The smack is muffled by the sound of his coat but before she pulls her hand away he reaches out and grasps her elbow; his thumb presses into the crook of her arm with his fingertips holding onto the back of it, the grip loose but strong enough to keep her close. Close enough, that he just has to make the slightest tug to pull her closer. Her body moves willingly into his, her eyes falling from his brown pools to his lips— moustache crooked up with a smile beneath that makes her smile too, a girlish smile that reveals her dimples. Lingering there like that could last forever, both know it. But Kurt opens to purse out his lips to press them to her coral coloured pair. _

_His other arm slides around her waist in a slow, soft move, his palm pressing to her lower back then moving back to stop at her side. Her hand slides up his chest and around his neck, her body mellowing happily into his with his kiss and touch. Her fingers have no direction but eventually stray into his hair. She’s not sure how long their kiss lasts nor how long she’s been standing there with her temple pressed to his shoulder and her forehead to his jaw, embracing him and his strength. But eventually she straightens up and flicks her head; tossing her hair around and letting it fall back into place. Eyes on eyes and smiles mirrored, no words are needed and the head drop she does is enough to tell him that she’s ready. _

_Her hands fall out of his when she steps back and returns to her desk to grab her phone, her purse and a few files to fit into her bag. _

_“Did you drive here?” Diane asks when sliding her bag onto her arm. _

_“No. Took a cab.” _

_“Good. I’m driving.” Diane declares and the clinking of keys is like the bell of a match; ending the discussion before it even begins. _

_Kurt nods in acceptance not bothering to argue and knowing if it helps, and if it’s what she wants, then she can do it. _

_“Wouldn’t expect anything less.”_

He can swear he hears her gasp when the large two-story comes into view and he reaches over, his fingertips grazing her face just in front of her ear then dropping to her shoulder and he squeezes gently. She looks at him, a tight smile flashing in his direction before she returns her gaze to the road. It's like a liminal phase takes over from there, a transitional period that has her body floating from the car to the front door, her eyes cloudy as she watches Kurt raise his hand to ring the doorbell until the call of her name from her father snaps her from it. 

She doesn’t take in the freshly painted exterior of the house; now a dark caramel colour as opposed to the milky cream that once coated the ancient walls. The house has belonged to the Lockhart’s for as long as Diane can remember; belonging to her grandfather, and his grandfather, and most likely her ancestors beyond him. Finding out was never one of her interests, nor was keeping the house in her name. She figured a long time ago that had she been a son, it would undoubtedly be hers, even now it may be hers. But independence, one of her strongest traits, led her away from home to branch out on her own. 

A small apartment that she’d insisted on paying at least half the cost, despite her parents— primarily her father’s, protests. So they came to the agreement that he would finance her first, one floor, one bedroom, kitchen-adjoined-living-room apartment until she made enough money to finance something more comfortable. And as expected that day came as soon as she could make it, finally able to go out on her own. She found a new place nearby work, a two story apartment; two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a larger kitchen, a living room and a den, and a spare room she converted into a home-office. Of course her father insisted he pay some of the cost. 

A part of her once wondered what Kurt would have thought about her first apartment; how small it was considering what she owned when they met. Considering her apartment was where they spent their first night together, and many more after. Over time it became theirs; it was a slow but gradual change. First starting with him leaving some clothes behind, or a change of clothes if he knew he’d need to stay in the city for training or when he was simply there to be with her. Then he’d forget a book, or a case file, or even leave something small like a note for her to wake to. Other mornings she might wake to breakfast, or lunch had been prepared for her. 

And after all of that, after her moving into her new home, sharing it part-time with her new beau, whilst he was proud, her father also missed the thought of being needed. Therefore visiting him frequently, and now including him in his grandchild’s future as much as possible, is one of her primary concerns. Especially considering how withdrawn her mother has become.

"It's good to see you, Diane." Edward greets, the words breezing by her ear as he hugs her. A similar greeting, only exchanged with a nod of his head is sent in Kurt's direction and the younger man returns the courtesy. 

Kurt follows her in and presses his hand to her back, a reassuring presence that before she would have been embarrassed to need, but now takes willingly. He listens with his eyes tracing over the familiar ornaments decorating the long hallway as Diane and her father discuss the upcoming election. It’s an interesting discussion, even for him and his completely opposite views; early on he learned of Diane’s education within the political world, undoubtedly one of the things that attracted him to her most. Her intellect, her knowledge on the things that needed and deserved to be known and the confidence to speak her mind on them— even if it meant he couldn’t get a word in. He knows without a doubt, that if she ever comes to home with the intentions of aspiring a political career, he could only support her; stand in her corner and cheer her on all the way. 

Always. 

His eyes flicker across photographs; some of his wife when she was young, others of her grandparents with his in-laws. She’d taken the time to show him each and every one of them before and yet they’re still as interesting as the first time he’d seen them. 

Inside the den is like a sauna, with the fire lit and crackling behind the gate with its glowing embers fading away to dust. Kurt sheds his jacket and hangs it over the long rack by the wall and turns, intending to take Diane's too only to frown when he sees she's still wrapped up in it. A subtle shake of her head makes Kurt's eyebrows furrow but their discreet, silent conversation comes to a pause when Edward casts his attention to them and is no longer poking at the fire. 

"Dinner should be ready soon. In the meantime, can I fix you both a drink?" Edward asks, clapping his hands together. 

"Whiskey on the rocks, please." Kurt nods, his hands sliding into his jeans pockets. 

His eyes waver to his wife when she suggests a non-alcoholic drink, instead opting for a glass of water. Two sets of eyes fixate on the oldest man, awaiting any form of suspicion or questioning, but none comes. When Edward turns away and mentions needing more ice, Kurt twitches his lips and waits until he's out of the room before turning to Diane again. 

"Are you really going to leave your coat on?" He asks as his eyes meet hers, the worry in his voice making her reach out to press her hands to his forearms. 

“Just for a little while.” Diane reassures with a tiny shake of her head.

Kurt breathes in slightly, his lips pursing as he takes in her purpose and a low snort escapes him. The sound makes her smile a little at him, the dancing flames casting shadows across her face. His arm curves around her back and he pulls her close, using the move to press a kiss to her forehead. 

"Diane you're hotter than the fire." Kurt mumbles against her forehead and steps back to look down at her.

A low chuckle escapes her and shaking her head, sarcasm seeps into her words. "Oh, well thank you." 

Kurt throws her an amused look as he steps back and drops his gaze to her torso, still hidden beneath her coat. "You're welcome. But seriously."

"I know, I feel like I'm going to pass out. What I don't know is why they have the fire lit." Diane looks to the fire again, but her attention is drawn to her father's words as he reenters the room.

"Because this house is old, big and empty and it gets cold in the evenings."

Diane simpers guiltily and accepts the glass offered to her, along with exchanging a glance with Kurt as he sips his drink. Tracing the rim of her glass with her finger her eyes go to Edward again, once more picking up on their conversation and drawing Kurt in just enough to make the discussion tepid, until a call from the kitchen has the trio making their way to the door. Diane wants to mention something about her mother avoiding them but considering she didn't make the effort to see her until now she holds her tongue. 

With Edward in front of them and loaning his help to Lillian as she decorates the table with plates of food, Diane curls her hand around Kurt's forearm and stops him. He looks at her expectantly only for her to place her glass into his hand and retract her own to unbutton her coat. The knee-length checkered, grey cotton slips from her shoulders and with a slight jostle of her arm it falls to one side, allowing her to drag it off her other arm and fold it in front of her. The perfect way to hide her bump – for now, if she finds that she can’t go through with it tonight. Four years ago this announcement had been one of joy, of delight and excitement. She never felt worried, didn’t feel the need to be anxious or nervous. She was happy, excited; carrying. And then the heartache happened. She spiraled. Her marriage crashed. And so did most of her relationships, aside from very few. But of those that did suffer included that with her mother and even now it’s still one that’s on the mend. She wonders at times if it will ever be fixed; if it’s even possible to. Sometimes what is broken cannot be fixed no matter how many pieces one picks up and glues back together.

_“So you’re the man who’s been making my daughter so happy lately?” The tone holds an easily deciphered tone of authority in it, telling the younger man he’s being scrutinised and examined down to every fibre. _

_“Dad,” Diane rolls her eyes, her hand reaching for Kurt’s knee. “Come on, please.” _

_“Hey, you brought your boyfriend to dinner with the intention of us meeting him, and I’m meeting him.” _

_“You’re interrogating him, you have been all night. Give him a break.” Diane amends without hesitation nor missing a beat, her eyes raised up to hold onto her father’s gaze, his eyes as blue as her own. _

_The ice in his glass clinks when Edward takes another drink and then swirls the golden-amberish liquid around as he sits down beside the fireplace in his usual throne. He looks almost too proper, like he’s wearing his finest suit, polished his shoes, ironed his shirt to a crisp. He’s easily setting a standard, an obvious attempt to intimidate his daughter’s new interest. _

“_Diane’s told me a lot about you, Kurt.” Edward begins again, now sitting back in his chair. _

_“Oh she has?” Kurt casts her a look, his hazel eyes full of surprise. _

_“I’ve kept him updated on your career and achievements.” Diane explains in the hope of easing Kurt’s obvious tension._

_“Oh, yes.” Kurt nods, his eyes going back to the other man, slight confidence in them. _

_Despite the encouragement and the advice Diane gave him about her father, he was finding it difficult to not call the man out, offer him to get straight to the point and ask what was really on his mind. _

_“You said it was a case that you met Kurt on, wasn’t it?” Lillian intervenes just as her husband opens his mouth, undoubtedly about to carry on his personal interrogation. _

_“Yes.” Diane nods to her mother, hoping her line of questioning won’t be too judgmental. _

_“Forgive us Kurt but since Diane left home she tends to tell us less and less about her life. Have you two been together since the trial finished then?” Lillian asks as she shares gazes with the younger two, who also exchange a look. _

_Diane craftily sneaks a look towards her father, who with his legs crossed and his whiskey brought to his lips, returns a sly wink and a curl of his lips that disappears when the glass is pulled away from his mouth again. The expression creates a wave of confidence within her, telling her that so far he approves of her beau. _

_“We started seeing one another when the trial finished but, things didn’t really start getting serious until a few months ago.” Diane slips her hand into Kurt’s and leans to the side, her shoulder pressing against his. _

_“So this is... _serious_, between you two?” Lillian looks to Edward, as if encouraging him to say something; perhaps oppose to it, create an argument, but Diane and him share a look that assures her once more. _

_“Yes.” Diane confirms, beaming widely. Her blue eyes wander to Kurt’s and he returns the expression. _

_“I know you probably wanted to meet me earlier, before things got so far ahead. But the last year and a half has been... busy.”_

_“Besides considering how little we had in common in the beginning, I wasn’t sure how long this would last. I didn’t want to introduce you to someone and then a few weeks later have to tell you it was over.”_

_“Diane, you don’t have to explain. As long as you’re happy, we’re happy.” Edward’s voice is smooth like honey and finishes with a gravelly whisper; the whiskey coming into effect. _

_“How serious is serious?” Lillian returns to her line of questioning, earning herself three glares; one of curiosity, one of apprehension, and one of interest. _

_“Well, uh,” Diane looks at Kurt in the hope he’ll help her out but he appears just as hesitant as she is. “We’ve been living together for a few months.” _

_“Living together?” Lillian jumps in immediately, eyes so wide Diane worries her eyes might burst. _

_“Part-time.” Diane gestures; hand raising in a manner of reassurance. “Kurt lives in the countryside and when he’s home from serving or he’s not training he stays with me in the city. Sometimes I stay with him in the countryside.” _

_“How long have you two been together, exactly?” _

_Diane sighs in silence. “Just over a year and a half.” _

_“And you’re already living together.” Lillian mutters, eyes cast down to her hands. _

_“Mother, I said it was part time. Besides I don’t think you have any reason to be concerned about it. I’m twenty-seven, not seventeen.” _

_Kurt looks at her as her hand tightens around his, hoping she can absorb some of his strength and silence and just get through the evening. Not much longer she hopes. She just needs the appropriate opportunity to excuse them both so they can escape to their room, then hopefully get away in the morning before anyone is up. _

_“Lilly, they’re mature adults and she’s got her own life, let _her _live it.” Edward cuts across, his hand reaching out to the side as of waning her back. _

_Diane finds herself nodding in time to his words. “Thank you.” _

_He nods subtly; his chin dropping down in a slow move and almost tapping his chest when he finishes his drink. The melting ice clinks when the glass is rested on his thigh, his legs recrossing in a poised position. _

_“It is getting late though, so I think we’re going to head up.” Diane doesn’t need to look to Kurt for agreement to her suggestion, she can easily feel it radiate from him._

_When she stands she smooths her hand across the front of her dress then let’s it hang at her side; turning only to grab her empty glass on the small table next to the couch. Glass in one hand, a short scarf in the other, Diane tosses the short, satin clothing over her arm when stepping towards her father. Her free hand presses to his shoulder and Diane leans in, kissing his cheek softly. _

_“The guest bedroom is all done up. You’ll show Kurt where it is?” He asks as she draws back, causing her to pause and stare at him; lips parted to form a tiny oval shape. A wicked smile appears on his lips then, a similar shape to hers yet smaller in size and he winks. “Just kidding.” _

_“You are?” Diane lets a fraction of a breath escape; the word coming out in a bubbly hiccup but her voice is almost dead. _

_“Yes.” The older man cannot conceal his amusement, the streak of horror that reminds him of his daughter— once sixteen, and how he used to easily embarrass her, how he could quickly drag a reaction out of her. _

_A small chuckle of relief escapes her and she bows her head; blonde hair falls down her shoulders revealing traces of light brown along her crown; barely there reminders that her hair was once a lighter brown. _

_“Goodnight dad.” Comes another sigh of words along with a bashful smile, her head shaking still with amusement. Then, after her back is straightened, her smile grows smaller and her eyes shift to her mother who only earns a curt nod. “Mom.” _

_A small head tilt encourages Kurt to follow her from the room and towards the staircase, only for his hand to graze her back. She turns to look at him, unsure if the touch is intentional or accidental. But the way his eyes hover over the photographs on display on the wall, his chocolate pools taking their time to drink in every little detail tells her that his touch is a silent ask about them. _About her. 

_She hesitates though, unsure if she wants to really discuss them. Yet knowing he wants to know about her more than he already does, despite it being nearly two years that they’ve been together, it builds up her confidence. He looks at her again, about to dismiss his interest for her comfort but she only smiles and steps back to him, her hand curling around his inner-forearm. _

_“They’re my grandparents, Lockhart side of the family. They lived here, as did my great-grandparents. This house is like a family heirloom.” She tells him whilst pointing to the framed black and white photograph. “That’s my parents on their wedding day. And that,” she draws in a breath but the words that are intended to follow die on her tongue when he speaks instead. _

_“That’s you.” He looks between her and the photo. She’s barely changed, aside from the long, light brown hair. _

_“Hard to tell, hm.” She confirms with the hint of sarcasm in her voice. “Graduation day.” _

_“You‘re beautiful.”_

_“My mother tells me I resemble my grandmother. Well, that was when I had that hair-do. She wasn’t too impressed when she learned I got my hair cut up.” _

_“How long was it?” _

_“Down to here.” Diane brushes the side of hand across the front of her body, her fingers grazing just beneath her breast. _

_“Well long hair or short, blonde or brown,” he turns to face her, his hand closing around hers. “I think you’ve always been beautiful.” _

_The fact he’s interested in learning about what she’s willing to share creates a fluttery sensation in her belly; the feeling not quite of nerves, but of anticipation. A feeling that this man would be around for a very long time. Hopefully for the rest of her life. _

_His lips graze hers and she smiles against his mouth; not embarrassed by the blush growing along her cheeks. When she leans her head back there’s a tone of ardour in her eyes, the glint refusing to be concealed or denied. She steps back, her hand in his pulling him with her and up the stairs in the direction of her bedroom. _

The kitchen is almost warmer than the den and Diane puffs out a silent breath upon feeling the heat. She can feel tension swarm the air, almost sucking the oxygen from it and it doesn’t take a scientist to figure out it’s due to the last exchange between her and her mother. Edward's gesture to the chairs opposite him at the table and Kurt’s touch, insistent on her lower back, combine to propel her to move to the table and take her seat; across from her father, beside Kurt, the furthest away from her mother that she can be. 

Kurt is the first to speak, deciding to stay out of Diane and Lillian's business until he's needed to be involved. When she claims her own seat at the table Kurt greets the older woman almost formerly but his tone is much cooler than what it usually is when it comes to her. Despite this the woman returns the engagement, the light-pitched voice followed by a sigh. 

Kurt catches the frown on his father-in-law's lips at the sight of his daughter and wife, the brief greetings more business-like than that of a mother and daughter. In an attempt to provide support Kurt covers her hand with his own, moving them to his legs beneath the table as the two exchange a small look before turning their eyes to their dinner.

The conversation is carried on by Edward, his intentions clear to break the tension lingering at the table and with interest he moves to discuss Diane's current case, his interest in law still as prominent as before. Diane had mentioned how eager he was for her to become a senator a few years back but it's easy to see her father is just as proud of her legal career. Yet humble as ever, Diane does her best to shine some light on Kurt's new career and directs the conversation towards him occasionally, knowing him enough to be able to weave it back to her or put the focus on her parents. 

"You travel quite a bit for that too right?" Edward asks, words pointed and Diane shifts her gaze between the two men. 

Kurt, holding his glass between his mouth and the table, rolls his jaw and swallows; using the moment to ponder the question. "Occasionally. But not as much as before." 

When his eyes meet Diane's she takes the silent signal, knowing she'll have a better way of explaining it without being interrogated. Inside it amuses her how some things still haven’t changed. At least now her father’s interrogations are unintentional, his interests just tend to reveal themselves either all at once or not at all. 

"Kurt bases his work here in Chicago, but if he's recommended for a case across the country I encourage him to go. There's no point in turning away business or withholding his expertise, especially when someone’s freedom could be held in the balance." 

Kurt nods, eyes shifting to Diane's as he twitches his lips. They both know he'd never have uttered out as many words to explain which would have led to more questions. 

“Someone’s freedom?” Edward queries, eyebrows pulled in together to crease the skin around his eyes. 

“Kurt only testifies if he finds someone is innocent.” Diane moves her hand to his shoulder furthest away from her and squeezes it, the move an obvious one of pride. 

“What happens if you find someone is guilty?” Edward asks, directing his words to Kurt once again. 

“Quit the case, or if I discover it in the preliminary examination I’ll turn down the offer.”

“Takes guts to be that moral.” Edward points out, his glass being raised. “Congratulations on your new business.” 

Diane beams at her father, her blue eyes crossing over to Kurt’s who is just as content as she is. Before redirecting her gaze to her dinner plate she steals a look at her mother, sitting in silence, barely engaging in any conversation. Away in her own thoughts, possibly. Purposely avoiding interactions, most likely. 

More questions ensue about their individual cases, the change in Kurt's workload and what goes into cases, along with Diane's routine now that Kurt is home permanently along with a few mentions of politics that Diane and Lillian both make efforts to subside, knowing just how passionate their husband's opposite views tend to get when faced with opposition. Finally, over the course of the hour the conversation flows naturally and the tension once surrounding them gradually fades, with Diane and Lillian soon interacting hesitantly, and then suddenly, as if nothing even happened between them at all. When her parents and Kurt stand, Diane reaches out for Kurt's forearm again. 

"Allow us to clean up." Diane offers, the kind smile on her lips believable to her parents who after a moment of disagreement, shuffle off to the den.

Diane sits back in the chair and lets her legs extend to cross them at the ankles; her arms come to cross beneath her chest as she rests her head on the back of the wooden chair. With restless nights, work demanding all her energy, a stomach full to the max, her hormones in a mess and another life growing inside of her; it’s understandable that all she wants now is to curl up on the couch and drift off to slumberland. The sound of water crashing into the sink and rising to fill it gradually lowers, her mind drifting nearly into that state of unconsciousness until the water stops and she pulls herself back. She’d rather be tired now, but sleep the night away in the comfort of her own bed later tonight. 

She uses her hands to push up into a sitting position and stands, her slim form dress revealing the protruding hill of her abdomen. Diane circles the table and collects the plates to bring them to the sink where Kurt stands. She's about to point out the dishwasher beside him but uses the opportunity instead. The plates submerge into the bubbly, heated water and Diane grabs a tea-towel, waiting in thought as Kurt washes and hands the crockery to her. 

“If you’re tired why don’t we just stay here tonight?” Kurt suggests but the silent stare he earns answers his question. 

“I’ll be fine.” 

“You’ll be fine until you get in the car. That’s when you’ll fall asleep._ I know you_.” Kurt smiles a little, the words true but still toying. 

“Are you just afraid I’ll fall asleep at the wheel?” Diane counters with a small smirk of her own, but it’s short lived, soon to fade away when she descends into her thoughts again. 

“Yeah.” He nods, the word full of humour, and Kurt bumps his shoulder against hers. 

Diane looks down and smiles, a small sniffle of a sigh coming from her nose as she dries another plate. Feeling him move away from her and back to the dishes, Diane looks over to him and watches him for a short moment. 

“_Oh,” she groans lowly her fingers curled around the headboard, her head succumbing to the pull of gravity and hanging down._

_His nose brushes against her jaw, his lips on the centre of her throat; damp with beads of sweat and remnants of his wet kisses. His hips shift beneath hers, his hands on her sides trying to bring her down against him; even if she's already as close as she can ever be. It's not out of desperation, but out of a selfish need to tell her, to let her know just what she means to him. He's convinced, has been for several months now, that he loves her. He's just been waiting for the right moment, but laying beneath her; so intimate and close to her, offering all they have to offer to one another; it takes everything for him to hold back the words that have been playing on his conscience for some time._

_“Kurt!” Her arm quivers, causing her to pull on then shove the headboard against the wall, causing a loud crack to erupt within the room. _

_“Shh.” He hisses out in a laugh, his head tilted back to look her in the eyes._

_She’s frozen, her eyes wide and on his like a deer’s; fear floating in them. Her cheeks are puffed from the breath she’s holding in and at the sound of his laughter that breath is blown out through thinly parted lips. Right after, a low chuckle of her own escapes from behind her teeth, her forehead pressing to his and her hand pulling away from the headboard to his shoulder. _

_“Are you really trying to get me kicked out into that guest bedroom?” Kurt asks as he resumes his kissing, his lips making their way up her neck to her lips. _

_She purses her lips and presses several light kisses, some lingering, some a little deeper, to his lips in return. _

_“Maybe.” She answers with a grin, another kiss following. _

_He nods and pulls his lips down in consideration, as if he’s really thinking about it. Only to roll, the bedsheets twisting around them with the quick movements. A low groan comes from her lips when her head hits the pillow, burying down into it, a smile ever so wicked appearing on her lips. _

_“Maybe huh?” _

_“Oh yeah.” _

_“Well,” Kurt murmurs, a soft kiss being placed on her lips, then travelling lower and coming to a stop above her breastbone. “We both know it’ll be you he kicks out.” _

_A gasp escapes her but her attempt to return the counter is squashed when he thrusts again and cause all sense of words and thoughts to fizzle away. _

When she fails to take the next plate from his hand he calls out her name and she looks at him.

She hums as she takes the plate and wipes it dry. "I’m ready. Let’s tell them now."

Kurt's hands still in the soapy water and he looks over at her, his eyes seeking confirmation. "Are you sure?" 

"You know I was dreading coming here tonight because of what happened last time we were here. But she doesn't seem as bothered as I thought." Diane shrugs and takes the bundle of cutlery he offers.

Kurt doesn't answer, just goes back to washing and cleans up the sink. Plates stacked and placed back in the cabinet, Diane crosses her arms over her chest and leans back against the counter. 

"Are you sure you want to do this now?" Kurt asks again and she realises he's giving her the chance to reconsider, but something is now ingrained in her, a wanton to tell them. 

"It's why we came here." Diane nods once, hands falling to her sides and she steps forward to raise one and slide it around his shoulders. "I told you I thought about this. I want to tell them, Kurt. You know I can't hide it much longer." 

At the words, her hand brushes over her bump and his eyes fall to the move, his arm pressing to her back. "Then let's tell them."

Her lower lip bulges when she sinks her teeth into it and squeezes his shoulder. A small smile then drags the corners of her mouth up, slight smile lines appearing to curve to the shape of her lips. Only for the skin to smoothen as her lips purse to press to his in a light, quick kiss, then another slower one. Her head angles back upon their lips parting; her eyes housing the reflections of the lights hanging above them.

In a timed sequence; same leg, same pace, they walk into the den to find Lillian and Edward standing near the resuscitated fire, their wine glasses topped up and the two in silence until their eyes fall to the younger couple. 

“A drink for you both?" Edward asks, already taking a step to the mini-bar by the wall. 

"Water again for me, please.” Diane utters, her voice stopping her father. 

Kurt nods at that, lips pursed slightly as he looks at Diane then her parents. 

“Water?”

“Well I’m driving home tonight.” Diane shrugs, her palms facing up as she raises her hands. 

“Stay the night, you know you’re always welcome.” 

A small hum of gratitude as she nods singly. “We know, but, the simple fact is I can't drink, not for a long time.”

Another pause for an intake of breath as her hand reaches to take Kurt’s and her other presses to her belly. She looks to Kurt for a moment, then back to her silent parents. 

"We're having a baby." 

Silence greets them until a breath of air, similar to a wheeze escapes the man standing in the corner and Diane comes to realise he's laughing. The crystal decanter and glass in his hands clink together as he puts them down in a rush, his movements nearly sloppy as he tries to get across the room to his daughter. Long arms curl around her and even if she wants to, the smile on her lips cannot be contained. Her eyes flutter and close and that smile grows at the murmur of excited words in her ear. However, when she pulls back to give her father the opportunity to shake Kurt's hand, she finds Lillian still sitting and quite unphased. Before the reaction can wipe the beam from her lips she turns to the two men, her father eagerly talking to Kurt who slips his arm around her waist. 

"Lillian did you hear?" Edward turns upon noticing his wife's absent presence. “She’s pregnant!” 

Before Diane can look at Kurt in relation to her mother’s reaction, she’s pulled into another embrace and returns it with the same affection she’s earning from her father; it’s in that moment she realises that she doesn’t need her mother’s response. This is all she needs. 

“I can’t believe it.” Edward murmurs, the emotion in his voice, the tenderness of his words; it all surprises Diane. 

It’s then she realises just what this means to him. After her miscarriage he’d been quick to tell her that not having children doesn’t define who she is, nor does her miscarriage. And while she knew he would always love her, the day she had to tell him that she would most likely never carry a child of her own, the day she had to watch him swallow that lump without letting any emotion out, seeing him accept that, it was all as painful as knowing she’d lost the baby. 

“Believe it.” Diane tells him as he draws back but not without a kiss to her cheek. 

Edward turns to see his wife’s reaction and Diane uses the moment to share a look with Kurt. Just the look in her eyes tells him what she's thinking; how one person can change so quickly and the question if her mother's courtesy was merely an act all evening. She steps towards him, into his grasp again and the two stand in silence as Edward expresses his joy to Lillian. Her mother’s unnerving silence, however, makes Diane move to twist out of Kurt’s grip but he tightens it, knowing she's about to query the older woman’s reaction and by the end of the night most definitely regret it considering how important this is to her father.

Lillian’s silence had been anticipated, but the... joyous, if Diane can call it that, facade she expressed midway through dinner threw her off. The deception almost makes her laugh, mirthlessly of course. There is no sense of joy when it comes to her mother, not anymore. When her blue eyes hammer into Lillian’s with a daring gaze, Diane finds the woman staring back with two hollows; her eyes like mirrors; nothing behind them. It makes Diane blink and look away, until her mother speaks, finally. 

"Yes. Congratulations." 

"I think we're going to head home." Diane suddenly says, her tone almost monotonous in comparison to the emotion that was previously in it. 

"What?" Edward turns suddenly and stares at her. 

"We've got work tomorrow and it's late enough. Besides I think you'll want time to discuss this." Diane tells him, her words defiant and more of an encouragement to herself to just get out of there before she does say something. 

"Stay for one more drink, I'll fix you-"

"Dad," Diane sighs, her head shaking. The word almost deflates the man and guilt spreads through her at the look on his face. “We should go.”

Diane gestures for him to follow them both as they leave the silent, tense, overheated room. The hallway is cooler, especially near the door where the three nearly huddle as they talk. Her father remains adamant they stay, simply ignore Lillian, and his offer is nearly tempting but rather than only cause more misery for her father because of her mother’s lack of interest Diane decides against it. 

"We'll celebrate another night, the three of us. How about lunch Monday afternoon at your favourite restaurant?" 

"I'll take it." He agrees, pulling her to him for another hug. “Have you told your parents?” 

“Not yet, Diane wanted to share the news with you first.” Kurt nods, giving the older man the honest answer. 

“I take it Gina will be much more—“

“Hey, let’s not compare. We all have different experiences when it comes to this.” Diane tries to referee, her shadowy eyes passing along the full message to Edward who nods. “I actually have something for you, it's in my coat pocket." 

"I'll get it." Kurt tells her and ambles back to the den. 

Still sitting by the fire is his mother-in-law and as Kurt reaches for their coats, he pauses, arms tensing then dropping after he grabs the items of clothing. He shouldn’t, he knows he should let Diane deal with it as she’s asked, but something in him— a need to protect, to defend, brings him to the older woman like a magnetic force. 

“I don’t know much about your relationship with Diane when she was young, but considering the amount she talks about Edward compared to you, I have a feeling there aren’t many happy memories.” Kurt begins as he approaches her, but the words don’t seem to affect the woman still staring at the fire. 

“I thought after everything it took for you to have Diane that maybe you’d cherish her. Or at least be a mother to her. Not try to control her or distance yourself because she spent more time with her father.” 

He pauses, his hands coming to rest in front of him as he too looks to the fire. 

“If you have something to say, say it.” A low husk comes in front of him, catching Kurt’s eyes again. 

He bobs his head with thought, already knowing what he is about to say. “Diane is many things. Just because she didn’t become a nurse, because she didn’t marry before moving in with me, because she didn’t marry some Highland Park liberal who wears crisp white shirts and gets his shoes shined once a week, it doesn’t make her any less your daughter. I would have thought that you would praise her, show her off. A woman with her legal career, with what she’s achieved, with a marriage that’s survived the worst and now becoming a mother herself. She’s someone to be proud of, hell, I’m proud of her.” 

A slight scoff comes from him, his hand moving to the back of his head. This is bold, he’s aware, but he can’t contain it. 

“Diane is your child, Lillian. But you treat her like she doesn’t exist. After all you went through to have her, why do that?”

He’s met with silence, the only trace of a response is the twist of the thinned lips on Lillian’s face as she glowers at him. Kurt shakes his head and half turns around, then stops abruptly.

“You know what, forget it. But the more you act like this, the more you’re going to lose her. It baffles me how you haven’t already lost her. But losing Diane, also means losing the only grandchild you’ll ever have.”

He doesn’t bother waiting for an answer, he’ll only be waiting there forever. So he steps away and returns to the ongoing conversation in the hallway. The sound of his footsteps makes Diane turn around and she looks at him quizzically. 

“What took you so long?” She asks with a small smile of curiosity, her arms slipping into her coat as Kurt helps her into it. 

“I heated up your coat by the fire. No doubt it’s getting cold outside.” He explains, hands resting on her shoulders momentarily before he shrugs on his own. 

“Oh, thank you.” Diane looks at him, her head dipping out to kiss his cheek. “I was just telling dad the baby is due October 24th.”

“Gonna be a busy month.” Kurt half grins at them both and Diane bounces her eyebrows as she reaches into her pocket and reveals a small envelope that she hands to Edward. He knows what it is, she can tell from the smile on his lips and Diane waits for him to set his eyes on the photograph.

"They're tiny." 

"For now." Diane chuckles, glancing between the two men then presses a hand to her fathers arm. "We'll talk more Monday." 

It's after they've gotten into the car and reached the end of the lengthy driveway that Diane realises she's supposed to be this evening’s driver. However she doesn't protest, doesn't bring up the two glasses of whiskey he's drunk, considering that she's so distracted that she'd either run a red light or drive into a ditch. The drive is silent and even though it's nothing between them, tension rises to fill the car like water from a river. He can feel anger radiate from her, can see she's holding back a slur of words by pressing her nails into her palm and he reaches over to give her aching skin reprieve by taking her hand in his. 

“You know what’s unfair?” Diane asks into the air, earning a look from Kurt; his features lit up dimly by the light behind the wheel. 

“What?”

“That my dad has to deal with her. I get her doing it to me but to him? Why? What has he ever done but stand by her side?” 

Her hands raise into the air as she talks, then fall down to her legs again as if giving up. Diane looks out her window into the darkness looming outside, the questions going unanswered, both knowing neither can truly answer them. Not because there is no answer, but because there’s too many, and many of those making little sense. As a way of reassuring him Diane reaches for his hand again and brings it to her lap; covers it with both hands and traces her fingertips across the back of it. In the dark a subtle smile crosses Kurt’s face then fades.

Later that evening, few words said since, Kurt places his book on the nightstand when Diane emerges from the bathroom. He switches off his lamp and turns over as Diane sets in beside him, switching hers off as she goes. The room falls into darkness and the only sounds are of passing cars and their laboured breathing. He's about to speak but she rolls away from him yet before he can accept it as a silent want to be left alone she reaches back and drags his arm around her body, shifting back against him to settle his hand on her belly with hers over it, their fingers linked. Kurt presses a kiss to the back of her shoulder and almost as if she can read his mind, she begins to talk.

"Sometimes I wonder why she wasn't a lawyer. Apparently we're the best for faking sincerity." 

"As long as you never fake it with me." 

This time not even his light-hearted tease makes her smile. 

"You know what her problem is? I told her I wasn't pregnant a few weeks ago. Or maybe it's just the idea of me having a baby that seems to annoy her."

"Maybe she's just concerned because of what happened last time."

Diane looks back at him almost in disbelief. Her pale skin attracts the light from the windows, her blue eyes dark but wide. "That was not concern, Kurt. It was disregard. She just doesn't care." 

"You're carrying her grandchild, Diane."

"No. I'm carrying my father's grandchild. If she wants to be any part of this baby's life then she's got to get off her high horse." 

"Well then that's her problem, so don't you start stressing about it. It won't do you, or the baby any good." 

Diane nods to his words and presses a kiss to the skin beneath his jaw. Sighing out the frustration and anger, she goes limp in his arms and closes her eyes. He's right, it's not her problem. Yet there's still a part of her inside that wishes things didn’t have to be this way. 


	14. 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning; there is a flashback dealing with miscarriage!

Azure irises run steadily over the document in her hands, her back to the man sitting behind her; across from her desk with his legs crossed and hands clasped together on his thigh. When Diane looks up in thought, she spins around and closes the document to drop it on her desk. 

Thoughts accumulated, she opens her lips to smile politely and speaks kindly to the man before her. 

“Thank you for coming in, Mr. Deasy. Once my partner is in and we have an opportunity to sit and review your results we will give you a call.”

“I’ll be waiting.” 

Taking a half-step closer she extends a hand and shakes his. When the expert moves to the door she turns away and picks up her pen, pressing it into the desk as she leans onto it. Thoughts scatter across her mind once again, her curiosity gradually winning her over and inclining her to flip open the case file for the umpteenth time. This will be her second ballistics expert interview in four days, and despite Will’s encouragement to hire the first one and the urgency to have one in time for trial, there’s still that impression that they can hire someone much better than what they’ve been getting. 

A puff of breath escapes peach tinted lips, her mouth shaped into an oval as cheekbones are prominently expressed. The pen is tossed onto her desk as her eyes trace the findings again, but she’s not satisfied. Perhaps it’s because she’s been around Kurt so much lately and his new career that she’s expecting something different. 

A hand reaches out then pulls back, then reaches out again; no longer hesitant and Diane grabs her phone, intending to press on Kurt’s name when the vibrations of a loud shriek of her name almost knocks her off balance, her head snapping up in the direction of the voice to give her a visual of the tiny redhead entering her office. She drops her phone to the desk and turns just in time to catch the small child as she’s about to crash into her, using the hold to haul her off the ground. With arms coiled around her neck tightly, Diane chuckles at the eagerness of her goddaughter and can only offer a beam in the direction of Lenore when she enters the office, two coffee cups in hand. 

“We were at the dentist and we wanted to stop by Aunt Di’s office.” Lenore tells her as she backs against the door, effectively closing it. “Who was that handsome man walking out of here?”

“Possibly our ballistics expert. Kurt’s coming by soon and I’m hoping he’ll have a look at the case before hiring anyone though. Ever since he began ballistics it seems every other expert is incompetent.” Diane tells her and uses a hand to gesture to her phone on the desk. 

“You mean ever since Kurt came into your life  everyone is incompetent. You’re just realising it now.” Lenore corrects, drawing a shake of Diane’s head. But the smile on the blonde’s lips seconds the words. 

“He makes me happy, Lenore. That’s all there is to it.” A soft sigh follows her words, along with an innocently serene smile.

“Yeah, yeah. Here, it’s your favourite.” Lenore offers a cup and Diane, after shifting Maia onto her side, takes it. 

“Thank you.” Diane sips the coffee and then points to the couches across the room. She turns her attention to the child sitting comfortably in her arms as she follows behind Lenore. 

A press of a finger against her cheek makes Diane look to the amused redhead, who only presses her finger to the same place when her godmother looks away again. Upon the third press, Diane turns her head quickly and presses a kiss to her nose; the unexpected move eliciting a laugh from Maia. A hum of a chuckle comes from the blonde at the reaction, her hold loosening so Maia can slide down her side to the floor and jump onto a couch opposite that of her mother. 

With a doting look towards Lenore Diane sinks down beside Maia. Though she may never know it, Maia was one of the only bright spots in Diane’s life four years ago and the godmother has done everything she can for the child; frequently treating her as if she’s her own. 

_She steps into the dimly lit room, the only source of outside light being a small, vertically rectangular window on the wall opposite the door, and even that light is dark, the evening hours well set in. There’s a small gaze of excitement in her blue eyes as she rounds the corner to reveal the lone bed, a small heap beneath the covers; red curls splayed_ _out on the pillow. _

_“Hi honey,” Diane greats softly, the small teddy bear in her hand being placed on the bedside table to the right. _

“_Diane,” Lenore sighs contentedly, happy to see her friend. “Where’s Kurt?”_

_“He’s talking to Henry.” Diane answers with a flick of her hand, the gesture accompanying her words to show where her husband is generally lingering. _

“_Oh, we need to talk to you both.” Lenore explains, then shifts her attention to the tiny baby sleeping in her arms. “But I think you should meet someone first.” _

_A smile spreads across Diane’s lips, lighting up her whole face; from her chin to her hairline. Without any verbal confirmation she opens her arms and lets Lenore settle the baby into them; the light weight and warm cotton, pink and white blanket surrounding the tiny bundle of joy a very welcome feeling. A small gasp comes from Diane, her eyes focused only on the baby, holding her into her body as she rocks her in delicate, slow moves. _

“_Lenore, she’s beautiful.” _

_“Takes after me.” Henry announces in a low tone, drawing both women’s attention, along with a smile from the blonde and a chuckle from the redhead. _

_Diane watches as Kurt eases into a chair at the opposite side of the bed, one leg being rested on the other and he murmurs a few words of congratulations to Lenore. _

“_What are you going to name her?” Diane asks as she looks at the two new parents. _

_“We’ve settled on Maia.” Henry looks at both women, then to the baby girl. _

_Diane’s eyes fall down again, waver over the baby’s doting expression for a moment. “Maia seems like a good choice.” _

_When she looks up, her eyes catch Kurt’s; watching her in silence, but speaking a thousand words. He can see, even if Lenore and Henry cannot, how hard it is for his wife to contain herself, to control her emotions. The meekness of her voice isn’t to keep the baby asleep, it’s to prevent her eyes from welling up, from her chest aching, her heart crumbling. If Lenore and Henry didn’t mean so much to her he knows they wouldn’t be here. But the fact they are, the fact she is, and controlling herself so well — putting her pain and anguish aside to be_ happy _for her friends, it makes him love her, admire her, respect her, so much more. More than he even thought possible. _

_She smiles a little at him; knows he knows. She cocks her head and Kurt stands to approach her, his hand going to her lower back. _

“_Isn’t she gorgeous?” She asks gently and looks at him, not quite eye-level in her flats. _

“_Beautiful.” He agrees, looking at Maia over Diane’s shoulder. _

_“We have something to ask of you both.” Lenore tells them and catches their attention, both emerging from their train of thought to focus. _

“_Mhm?” Diane encourages, the back of her finger being traced over Maia’s cheek in soft, repetitive motions. _

_“We were hoping you would be Maia’s godparents.” _

_Both Diane and Kurt look at Lenore, then Henry, then Maia. While Kurt stays silent, Diane’s lips part into a smile again and she eagerly accepts the title; almost like she’s being offered a judgeship. _

“_We would love to, wouldn’t we Kurt?” She looks to him with such hope and purpose in her eyes — something he’s missed seeing, that he could never say no. _

“_Of course.” _

_She smiles at him, a real smile. It’s later that evening, when Lenore is in the bathroom, Henry accompanying her and Diane sits at the edge of the bed cradling Maia, he realises. _

_ Realises this is what it may have been like; had the baby been carried to term. That this is what they’re missing out on. And that sudden pang in his chest as pain radiates through his veins is matched in her eyes when she looks at him again .  _

Leaning back into the couch and crossing her legs; Diane rests in a leisurely position; the idea of her taking such a moment to herself being almost criminal, especially considering how much work she has yet to get to. A gentle nudge against her elbow has her raising her hand and dropping it around Maia’s shoulders when she’s comfortably leaning against her side. 

“Which sticker did you get this time?” Diane asks as she looks down at Maia. Maia looks up, then back down to her chest and bunches her cardigan to show her. With a deliberately exaggerated eyebrow raise, Diane hums. “Oh, that’s your favourite.” 

“You should have seen how excited she was when he showed her.” Lenore nods once and Diane chuckles. The sounds make Maia smile up at her and Diane taps her nose with her finger, the gentle gesture drawing a high pitched laugh from the child. 

“I’m just going to run to the bathroom.” Lenore adds and Diane looks to her, smiles slightly and looks back to Maia, her head bobbing subtly as she listens to the four year old tell her all about her morning. 

“Your teeth are white.” 

“I take care of them.” 

“Are all your baby teeth gone?” 

A little laugh comes from Diane, along with a nod. “Yes, for a long, long time.” 

Fascinated by the new knowledge, Maia grunts and inspects the revealed pearls until they’re concealed by a light orange hue. 

“Are you heading back to school soon?” Diane asks and smiles sympathetically when an exaggerated pout forms on the now grumpy child. 

“Mommy says I have to.” Maia peeks up at her, her big green eyes glazing over and Diane worries for a moment that she’s about to cry.

“Well she’s right.” Diane shrugs, which seems to make the child almost whine, her head burrowing into Diane’s side. 

“But I’ll get homework!” Maia’s outburst would be loud but her voice is muffled against Diane’s body and she curls her small arm around Diane’s front as much as it’ll go. “Can I stay with you?” 

“Maia I have a lot of work to do, and school is important.” Diane looks over to her bathroom door, hoping Lenore will emerge and get her out of the situation. 

“Please, Aunt Di, please!” 

“What did the dentist say about your teeth?”

A look of confusion canvases Maia’s face but before any means of protest can emerge from her lips, she’s encouraged to respond and pouts in annoyance before sighing dramatically. 

“He told me they’re very healthy and that he thinks some of them might start to fall out soon because I’m getting older.” 

“That’s good. He’s right you know, but the more you look after them the better and stronger your big teeth will be.” 

“I know but Diane!” Maia pleads, green eyes large and wide. 

Diane ponders the plea for a moment but eventually gives in and nods; chastising herself for being so weak. “Since you did so well at the dentist today, then okay. I’ll try.” 

“Yes!” The child hisses our excitedly and rolls, squeezing Diane in the form of a hug. “Thank you Aunt Di.” 

Lenore returns just as she sees her eccentric daughter flop back to her crook of the couch; somehow even closer to her aunt now. Even when leaning forward to grab her coffee cup her eyes don’t leave the two figures laying lazily on the couch; trying to figure out what’s got the blonde looking guilty and the redhead looking smug. Maia nudges her godmother who casts a look down at her and Diane finds two orbs encouraging her and a cheeky smile twitching up pink lips. Diane subtly winks to the girl, but the interaction is short lived.

“What are you two up to?” Lenore cuts to it, noticing the exchange instantly. 

She eyes them, the silent conversation between her and Diane’s blue orbs disguised beneath thick eyelashes and stoic expressions; along with her mouth being hidden behind her coffee cup. 

“I think you should let Maia take the day off.” Diane finally says, Lenore’s dramatic pause and slow movement to bring her cup down to her leg all a ruse to antagonise her daughter.

“I can’t do that. I told her teacher she’d be back.” 

“I’m sure her teacher won’t mind her missing a few hours.” Diane continues, looking down at Maia who’s buried her face into her side. 

“Since when are you not serious about education?” Lenore asks with a small scoff of a laugh. “There was a time Henry couldn’t drag you away from your law books. We’d be out for dinner and you’d have study notes with you.”

“I was nineteen and in law school. But I don’t think a four year old missing three more hours of playing with sand is going to be detrimental to when she decides she’s ready to take her bar exam.” 

“You’re fully intent on her being a lawyer aren’t you?”

A sneaky smile greets Lenore who, after a moment, holds her breath and the silence between the women makes Maia raise her head from Diane’s side to look at them both. 

“There’s no use arguing with a lawyer is there.” Lenore finally speaks, the words rhetorical and Diane looks down at Maia with a small nod. 

“I thought we were speaking godmother to mother.” Diane shrugs a shoulder, but the sly smirk drawn on her face only withers her words. 

“If you say so,” a small grin, “lets go home then.” 

“I’ll be calling tonight to make sure.” Diane points at Lenore who snickers when reaching over for her cup of coffee again. 

After Maia eagerly thanks her godmother, she reluctantly moves away from the comfort of Diane’s warm body. Standing up Diane looks down and watches as Maia skips past her mother and Lenore steps closer to the taller woman to embrace her. 

“You’re too good to her.” She says lowly but Diane only hums. 

“She’s a good child, Lenore.” Diane looks over Lenore's shoulder to Maia, now trailing her fingers over a small ornament on her desk. 

“Okay, well I got to go before the lunchtime traffic hits and before she ends up wanting to stay here. Come on Maia, before Diane tries encouraging me to give you a week off.” 

Chuckling, Diane turns to round her desk again. “Drive safe.”

However, Maia’s call of her husband’s name has Diane turning around again and she finds Maia clinging to Kurt’s leg in the form of a hug. Greetings between him and Lenore are exchangedawkwardly when Maia seems to be intent on holding onto him and Diane draws her lips into her mouth to keep her laughter from escaping. After Lenore almost drags Maia from Kurt, he moves into the office to give them a chance to get through the doors. 

Diane smiles at Lenore when Maia bursts into her tale of being at the dentist and Kurt questions her sticker, just as she had, then shows his palm which the child eagerly high-fives. Lenore’s next command to leave is met with opposition by Maia, who wants to spend time with h her Uncle Kurt.

Kurt ambles towards his wife, his eyebrow furrowed at her smirk and he turns to sit on the edge of her desk next to her. 

He looks to her, finding her watching Maia in amusement. “Guess I’m going to have to get used to that.” 

“That, and a whole lot more.” Diane amends softly, a feigned look of sympathy in her eyes. 

“I figure you told Lenore.” Kurt looks between them, only to be met with silence. 

“Told me what?” Lenore questions, eyes shifting to them both and attention no longer on the losing battle with her daughter. 

“I was actually waiting until we told Gina.” Diane tells him, which makes his eyes close. Her hand presses to his arm. “But were doing that soon so it makes no difference.” Diane looks at Lenore then. “We’re having a baby. I... I’m pregnant.”

“No!” Lenore exclaims, eyebrows shooting up as a smile forms on her lips. 

Grinning, Diane nods her head. “Yes.” 

A squeal escapes the woman and she opens her arms as she steps to her friend, embracing the taller woman with a fierce hold. The excitement clearly confuses the smaller redhead who inches towards her godmother, waiting for her mother to step away. The hug moves from Diane to Kurt, who doesn’t expect it in the slightest and Diane’s lips twitch in amusement when Kurt looks at her. 

Her attention shifts down to Maia and Diane stoops to eye level. “How would you like a baby cousin?” 

“Will you still come over to play with me and come to my birthday parties?” Maia asks timidly, her right eyebrow furrowed with worry. 

“Of course we will. Only this time we’ll bring the baby with us.” Diane reassures, reaching out for Maia’s small hand and holding it with hers. “You can teach them how to play, you’ll be like a big sister.” 

“A big sister?” Maia repeats in a whisper, smiling slightly at the concept. 

“Yes.”

“And I can give them toys I don’t need.” 

“That would be very sweet of you.” Diane brings Maia’s hand to her lips and kisses it. 

“Maia darling, let mommy and Diane talk for a minute, okay?” Lenore asks and Diane rises to her full height again. 

She shares a look with Kurt and he walks around both women, offers a hand to Maia and Diane smiles when she watches them walk towards the couch. 

“I thought you couldn’t...” 

“So did we. But clearly...” Diane trails off with a low laugh, her palm pressing to her concealed bump. “God Lenore I was scared to death it wouldn’t get passed twelve weeks. I still am scared to death.”

_Her hand trembles so much it‘s hard to focus her eyes on it. Yet to be honest she doesn’t want to. Doesn’t want to confirm the disappointment in her hand, doesn’t want to see that one line result. Diane tosses the plastic stick into the bin near the sink and sits back onto the edge of the bath, her arms coiling around her. _

_Inhaling deeply, Diane’s hands uncurl again and brush down her thighs to her knees and Diane leans forward, her head hanging for a long time. Eyes closed, she sways subconsciously and presses her elbows into her knees to rest her head on her hands. She’s not sure how long she spends there, thinking, wanting, mourning. _

_When she emerges from the bathroom Kurt stops getting dressed, buckling his belt now the least of his concerns. The hope in his eyes dies upon the shake of her head and Kurt rises to his feet. _

_“We can try again.” He tries to reassure, but he can tell from the water welling in_ _her eyes and how she leans into the wall, she can’t. Not anymore. _

_“It’s not happening Kurt.” Diane whispers, bringing one hand to her lips and pressing her fingers over them. “Maybe we’re just not supposed to be parents.”_

“_Hey, it’s not going to happen straight away. Let’s give it another month before we lose hope completely.” Kurt approaches her, but Diane only shakes her head. _

_“Kurt, you heard the doctor. Septic abortion.” _

_It’s now he sees her visibly trembling, her body betraying its efforts to keep herself together. It’s sickening, how after they’ve finally decided and adjusted their lives to begin a family, they can’t. Of course there are other options, but none of those are coming to mind right now. _

_He hovers in front of her, not quite touching her and waiting for her to reach out first. And she’s about to, her hands nearly touching his chest but they recline again and Kurt feels a jolt of pain shoot through him. When her eyes meet his again, a tear has fallen and is stuck momentarily above her cheek, before it rolls over the hill and down to her jaw. He knows it’s not not being pregnant is what causes her to cry, and while it makes up a little bit of it, it’s the guilt that controls her body that makes this grief so much worse than it is. _

_“I...” Diane begins, only to stop. The gasp she shakes has Kurt opening his arms and she falls into them; hands clutching at his chest. _

“But you’re happy?” 

“More than words can say.” Diane confirms and folding her arms over her chest, looks over at Kurt. 

Sitting on the couch besides Maia, Diane watches them in a distracted daze; all her attention now on them. Lenore’s words fade away, her voice suddenly distant as if Diane is underwater and she can hear her talking above the surface. Blue eyes linger and tinted lips curl at the corners as she listens to Maia asking Kurt about the annual summer festival they go to every June, out in Kurt’s hometown. 

“Diane?” Lenore calls, making Diane blink and look at her again. 

“Sorry. What were you saying?” Diane smiles guiltily when Lenore brushes it off with an understanding smile of her own. 

“I was talking about contractions.” 

“Oh, Lenore let me get over the morning sickness first.” Diane moans, pressing her hand woefully to her cheek. 

Lenore chuckles at that and reaches out again; her hand presses to Diane’s upper arm and squeezes gently. “Congratulations, Diane.” 

“Thank you Lenore.” Diane beams, her hand covering Lenore’s and returning the squeeze. 

“Okay Maia, this time we do have to go. Say goodbye to Uncle Kurt and Aunt Diane.” 

Diane watches as Maia almost lunges at Kurt and folds her arms around Kurt’s neck. A surprised grunt escapes him and Diane sits back on her desk, watching contentedly as they finish their hug and Maia comes hurrying towards her. Diane raises her from the floor again and holds her to her chest, presses a delicate kiss to Maia’s cheek and lowers her to the floor. 

“You be good for your mom.” Diane tells her, brushing the red locks behind the girl’s ear.

“I will!” Maia assures as she walks out the door, Lenore behind her. 

Diane watches the two go and round the corner near the reception desk before turning her attention to Kurt, who’s slowly approaching her with his hands in his pockets and his brown plaid blazer pushed back behind his arms. There’s a look of hesitancy on his face and Diane reacts to it by bouncing her eyebrows. 

“I had no idea.” He begins but before Diane can speak he continues. “I thought you had told her, that’s why she was here.” 

“Kurt,” Diane utters, a sigh escaping her when he continues. “Kurt, it doesn’t matter. I’m not going to be able to hide it for much longer. Not to mention the high unlikeliness of Lenore and Gina crossing paths soon.” 

Kurt stops and rubs a hand over his mouth, head bobbing when his hand falls to his hip again. Diane reaches out and curls her fingers through the loops of his jeans to tug him closer. Smirking at him she cranes her neck up to press her lips to his. As soon as it begins it ends and Diane tries pushing him back only for him to press his weight against her; trapping her, the effort making her chuckle and look at him. 

“Come back here.” He edges, head cocking and the motion is enough for Diane to tilt her head forward to fit against his face; her lips on his again. 

Her hand presses to his hip, the other moving to curl around his to graze his shoulder blade. The kiss ends with peppered kisses, some along the corners of her lips and her cheek, then one last one she insists is on her lips. This time when she moves away he lets her, doesn’t even protest or make a remark.

“Now for the reason you’re actually here,” Diane says airily as she looks at him teasingly, then dedicates her focus to a file. “Can you take a look at this? I had an expert in about an hour ago but I’m not convinced.” 

“Sure. What’s the case?” Kurt asks as he steps around her desk, looking down at the open pages.

“Miles Wagner, shot dead. There’s something not right about my client and the prosecutions story.”

“I’ve got that Englewood case at the moment, but I’ll take a look when I get home and let you know if I see anything.” Kurt says as he takes the offered document and taps it off the palm of his other hand. 

“Thank you. Do you want me to pick up some dinner on the way home?” Diane offers as she sinks into her seat and looks up at him; moving to half sit on the desk.

“I’ll let you know. If I’m home early I’ll make something for us.” 

“Sounds reasonable. I won’t be working too late tonight, maybe five, latest will be six.” Diane promises, inclining her head forward to rest her chin on her fist. 

“Okay then. See you tonight.” He stands, but bends again to kiss her, again; letting it linger. 

She leans back in her chair with him following, her hands cupping his face and a soft hum escaping her lips to be muffled against him. He parts with a chaste kiss to her lips and straightens up, a hint of a grin beneath his moustache. 

She simpers up at him and blinks her eyes open slowly. “I can’t wait to see you tonight.” 

Kurt chuckles, brushes the backs of his fingers down her cheek and takes a step away from her desk. “Get home soon then.” 

“You’re making that highly tempting.” Diane returns the tease in a low, voluptuous tone of voice. “Question is, will all that’s promised be given?”

He grins over his shoulder to her, the expression obvious now. After all these years, she still can really amuse him. 

“That’s a risk you’ll have to take.” 

A hum of a chuckle comes from her. “Mm. I guess it is.” 

“So will I see you soon?”

Diane looks away in thought, then shifts her eyes back to his. Now they house a mischievous glaze. “I’ll be there by four.” 


	15. 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine’s Day all! Here’s a little gift. Shoutout to my beta for the time she took to help out with this!

A bird stands on the windowsill outside the bedroom window, its hazel wings glowing like gold in the rising sun’s light; the outside world calm, quiet, fresh. It’s still early, too early for any real disturbances except the sound of the odd car coming to life, maybe a dog barking excitedly as it’s taken out for his morning stroll. Unlike the chaos inside the window, concealed behind lilac curtains, occasionally giving the tiny songbird competition in its high pitched ballad. 

Newly manicured nails, red and shiny, face the risk of being chipped from her fingers tense grip on the headboard; her nails being the very last thing on her mind right now. A moan slips through her bare lips; a little swollen, but widely parted; unable to keep herself quiet. At least not with how he moves beneath her. 

Hands on her hips, bedsheets bundled around them; pale against the tone of their skin, almost moulded together as it glides together so effortlessly, so naturally. Her other hand that’s not gripping the headboard for dear life instead presses flat to his chest; her elbow pressing into her side at the closeness of their bodies — neither wanting to be apart, not even for a minute.

A low chuckle; a sound that almost doesn’t sound feminine from the gravelly sound that echoes from her throat; tensed and strained to keep her voice at a moderate tone, comes out, much to his satisfaction. His lips touch the skin beneath her chin, move to her throat, down to her collarbone; the kisses audible, wet lips on wet skin. The kisses come to a stop when she lowers her head, chin almost tipping the spot he’d just kissed; cheek nudging his. A clear indication—  _kiss my mouth_ . And an indication he happily goes with, his head tilting back so he can press his lips to hers for a magnitude of kisses, some longer, wetter, deeper than others. Some filled with smirks and chuckles or surprised moans. 

A soft, dreamy tone of voice carries his name from her lips; any other tone almost impossible for the state of uncontrollable ecstasy her body suddenly descends into, the flow lasting for a couple of seconds before she stills, then occasionally, sporadically quivers, her hips pushing down into his again. It takes every ounce of self-control to wait, to let her take what she needs, to let her revel. His hand moves from her hip to her back, fingers splayed out across her skin; the heel of his hand grazing the silk of her navy camisole, his fingertips grazing the ends of messy blonde hair when she lets her head fall back to expel a groan of pure satisfaction. 

And then a blush, creeping its way up her chest to her cheeks, like a snake. It’s a beautiful colour, a light shade of pink, almost red. The hum of laughter that comes from her lips is so delicate Kurt needs to open his eyes to ensure it’s real. 

There are these moments, even after so many years, that he finds himself appreciating her little things, her little quirks. Sometimes fathoming the fact she is real. She’s his. Despite it all, she still chose him; still chooses him. When she looks down at him and finds his eyes open and watching her with undisguised adoration her stomach flutters, her eyes staying open when she presses a gentle kiss to his lower lip. 

“That was amazing.” She murmurs into the next kiss, then moves her lips to his cheek and down to his neck. 

His neck is damp from her heavy breath, an almost silent struggle of composing herself; preparing herself for him, again. The slow straightening of her leg; her toes grazing his ankle, a sign that she’s slipping off of him to move to his side. He follows immediately, climbing over her; her legs needing small guidance to lock around his hips. The navy negligee falls down her thighs in ripples; creating little hills as it bunches up toward her hips, her body again slanted against his. 

Her hair is messy and far from the usual coiffed style it’s so regularly set in; tangled and fuzzy from his fingers running through it. Her arms extend, her hands cup his cheeks and hold his face to hers, giving her the opportunity to pepper his cheeks and mouth with lazy kisses, some lingering and lasting longer than others, her teeth grazing his lower lip to make him groan as he pushes into her again.

His hands move around her body distractedly, one finding its way back into her hair to hold her lips on his for a longer kiss than those she’s peppering him with; needing more to sustain his desperation. His other hand rests on her thigh, fingertips pressed softly into the muscle. 

Kurt moves his lips to her jaw but only gets a few kisses in before she’s turning her head. She pants, eyes closed as her mouth presses to the corner of his, then drags over to his lips and down to his chin, pursing just beneath his jaw. He hums when her lips linger on his skin, holds it for a moment that when she lets go and goes on to graze his skin some more, it almost burns; like the blush crawling up hers. 

He’s unable to edge a word in as her lips press deeply and lazily against his again. They’d had an argument last night and while he’s aware it’s not serious, he knows it’s cause; exhaustion, stress hormones and he opted to let it ride its course, but this morning she came around with a desperation to make it up to him through as many kisses as possible. And while he still has yet to try to reassure her that there’s no residual feelings about the previous evening, he’s willing to drown in her kisses and breathless whispers for as long as she showers him with them.

He doesn’t last much longer; before either realise, they’re resting with one another, the morning only beginning but their bodies already burnt out. It’s quiet; the silence engulfing them, not even the hectic traffic that passes their apartment bursts into their little bubble. Kurt eases onto his side of the bed again, his arm stretching out to invite her into his embrace; he bunches the sheets up over her back and rests his hand on her hip; let’s it rest there as he closes his eyes and sinks into the bed while she sinks into him, almost moulding their bodies into one, once again. 

He feels her eyes close against his chest; the scratch of eyelashes along his skin a soft ministration. The sigh she expels, a drowsy breath of contentment before she lapses into sleep again, causes him to smile and consider following suit, but the sign of life outside the confines of their sanctuary tells him that by the time sleep claims him, their alarm will summon him again. Therefore he opts to let her sleep, the temptation to delay the alarm for an extra half hour prominent in his mind. 

But when it does go off Kurt just turns his head to look at it, the flashing digits signalling eight am. She stirs against him, coming out of her little burrow of dreams again to groan and stretch into life. Kurt, accepting she’s awake and probably wouldn’t even consider taking the day off let alone go in late, reaches out a hand to turn off the alarm. Propping his head onto his arm upon slipping it under his head again he looks down to see Diane looking up at him, smiling; a glow upon her features. 

“I could stay here all day.” Diane sighs, her lips pursing to kiss his cheek at the end of her sentence. 

“What’s stopping you?” Kurt asks, the question causing her to lift her head off his shoulder. 

An almost sad smile meets him. “Work.” 

“Call in.” 

“Oh, that’s ethical.” Diane scoffs out a snicker and cupping his mouth with her fingers and thumb, bounces her eyebrows. “Don’t.” Then she kisses him, silencing what she knows will come next, what  always comes next.

“Sleeping with a witness is ethical, but staying in bed with your husband is not?” 

“It was ten years ago, and I waited until the trial was over.” Diane reminds him as she rolls away from him, pulling the sheets with her. 

“You still kissed me.” Kurt continues, following her by rolling onto his side. 

Diane puffs out a breath and brushes her hair off her face. The wispy waves look like a balloon has been swiped over them. Sitting at the edge of the bed, Diane bends down and picks Kurt’s shirt up and just as she raises an arm to slip it on Kurt runs his hand down her back. He traces his middle finger down the groove of her spine, starting at her neck; gliding down her bare skin until he reaches the silk concealing her skin and trails down that to her lower back. The touch makes a shiver chase after his finger and Diane arches subtly, pushing back into his delicate touch. When he reaches the end, stopping just above her backside he turns his hand and trails back up. This time his nail trails over her skin and Diane has to pull on the shirt to stop another shake creeping down her back. 

She reaches for his hand and catches onto his wrist before she turns to look at him. He’s watching her determinedly, nothing else has the power to captivate him in this moment like she does. It’s a weakness of his, just how easy she can get to him. With words, be it one or fifteen, or a blink of her eyes or just a subtle look in them. In this instance, it’s how she wears his shirt so casually, how she kisses him so wantonly and loves him so tenderly.

Before he would hide this. He wouldn’t reveal his faults, certainly not to her no matter how much he loved her. But now there is no holding back, no concealing and withholding. It’s all open, it’s all  them . And that’s what he sees in her eyes. That’s what makes his breath hitch.

“You’re staring.” Diane points out, the tone not accusing, but curious. 

“I like watching you.” He admits unabashedly, lips twitching up at the words. 

That same smirk twitches her lips, but falls away. “Yet, there’s more.” Diane tells him as she shifts around, extending one leg on the bed again as she half-faces him. 

“Is there?” Kurt grins, earning a shoulder nudge from her. 

“You tell me.” Diane leans back against the headboard, hand covering his now once again on her stomach. 

“I’m just thinking,” Kurt shrugs. 

“Oh not this again.” Diane laughs, patting his leg before rolling off the bed. However he’s too fast and reaches out to grab the edge of the shirt, subsequently dragging her back to him. “Kurt!” 

“I listen to you ramble all the time.” 

Looking up at him she raises her eyebrows as if she’s caught him in a lie or found out something incriminating about him. 

“Oh that’s what you call it? Rambling?” Diane teases gently. 

“Isn’t that what you call it?” 

“Yes, but I’m talking about  _me_ .” Diane extends her pointer finger, prods his side with it; an empty, toying, non-verbal threat. 

“Don’t worry I won’t ramble like you do, I’ll get straight to the point.” Kurt flicks his hand as he speaks, which earns a shove from Diane. The response makes him laugh and he catches her hand to press a kiss to it. 

“Okay, what is it?” Diane asks, a cloud of seriousness descending on her face, bubbling up in her eyes. 

Kurt, purely for false emphasis, stares across the room as if he’s considering his words carefully, then sighs and looks down at her. “My work is technical, Diane, there’s a lot of technicalities I need to exam during trials.” 

“Yes...?” She drawls slowly. 

“And technically, you slept with me when I was still a witness. That’s unethical.” 

“Oh you—“ she loudly thumps her fist into his chest. “If we’re really being technical you insinuated it, so  _you’re_ responsible.” 

Their gazes hold for a short moment, the uncontrollable twitch of her eyebrow and the vague smirk beneath his moustache enough of a sign to each other. 

“Now you’re victim-blaming.”

A hoarse scoff comes from her and she looks up to the ceiling, almost like it will give her a sense of how to respond. Then she looks at him, nearly non-verbally apologising. 

“If it’s any consolation, you’re the only witness I ever married.” 

Kurt’s head falls back to the pillow, his laughter seeming to push it back until it rests on the fluffy cotton. Diane bites her lip and drags her teeth back over it after rolling, once again half on top of him. His reaction thoroughly amuses her, draws a smile onto her lips as she watches him in appreciative silence. While she’s said the words lightheartedly, inside they truly bear meaning. Lenore is right and while she’d brushed her off, there’s never been anyone else. Never could be anyone else, no matter what they went or what they will go through. 

And now a baby,  _their_ baby, is like another layer of cement across their foundations. A touch up, unnecessary but always welcome. Her hand absentmindedly rests on her bump.

“That’s a relief.” Kurt finally replies after a moment of catching his breath. 

“_This silently stoic thing, that’s all just a pose right? When you get home you start spouting Proust?” Diane asks, breath held as her wine glass hovers in front of her lips. _

“_Yep.” _

_ A laugh escapes her and she repeats the word, her mockery amusing him.  _

_ “Well to cowboys,” she tilts her drink at the stem, clinks it with his pint glass. “Who knew I loved cowboys? Maybe it’s in our DNA, part of being American.”  _

_ “You don’t need to talk like that.”  _

_ Her smile is wide and her laughter can be easily seen behind it, being swallowed back before it can escape. “I do need to talk like that because that’s how I talk.”  _

_ Kurt keeps his eyes on her and doesn’t move them even when he takes a sip from his glass. There’s a look in them, the brown hues dark and illuminated by the bar light.  _

_ “You know there’s a selfishness to the silence of the cowboy, forcing everybody else to carry the weight of the conversation.” Diane continues, her voice a little thinner as she tilts her head in his direction.  _

_ He’s been so preoccupied on her eyes that he’s missed her downing the rest of her drink and only notices it when she places the empty glass on the counter. Kurt looks to the bartender, about to raise his arm to salute another drink but Diane’s hand on his forearm preoccupies his attention.  _

“_As much as I would love this exciting conversation to continue, I need to get home.” Diane slowly sides her hand from his and drops it back to her lap. “Let me get half the tab.” _

_ “No, it’s  on me.”  _

_ A soft smile appears on her lips. “Kurt, you are not solely paying for a bottle of wine and three beers.”  _

_A small sigh escapes him and Diane can see the wheels move in his head. “Then let me walk you home.”_

_ Before she can object his hand is raised and silencing her. They hold gazes for a moment and when Diane realises he doesn’t intend to back down, gives in.  _

“_Fine.” She agrees and reaches for her purse. _

_ Outside it’s cold; misty and it’s raining. Her hands are tucked deep inside her coat pockets, her pale legs sticking out from beneath the beige coat hiding her sleek black dress. Their steps are slow, Diane now accustomed to Kurt’s slower, more laid backs pace and her high heels clack softly along the pavement.  _

_ “So, when are you being deployed next?” Diane asks casually, breaking the wispy silence.  _

_ They move sideways to allow two men to walk by, resulting in Kurt dropping off the sidewalk to the road. She’s taller than him for a moment, looking down at him for his answer until she steps aside again and wordlessly invites him back onto the path beside her.  _

_ “Few months.” _

“_And you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time a few weeks ago?”_

_ “Yep.”  _

_She smirks and looks down, not needing to look at_ _where she’s going anymore. She’s on the edge of her neighbourhood, can count the houses to her own, knows after passing seven more trees she’ll reach the steps leading up to the front door. Softly, Diane repeats the word again. There’s something about him, a simplicity she cannot place. In this crazy world, he seems to have found a place of peace. He’s not rushed, he’s not worried, he has no urgent needs or attentions. It makes her wonder what he’s seen when abroad, considering her world here, is so manic. And to him, it’s slow and simple. _

_“Why did you join the army?” She finds herself becoming more and more curious and she wishes she doesn’t know where she is, wishes they could walk on for miles in this slow and steady pace_. 

_ Somehow, someway, he brings that calmness to her. He makes her forget that there’s the stress and irritation and the anger and hectic hustle of tomorrow, the day after, the day after that, all waiting for her. It’s like she’s trapped in a bubble with him, gently floating along.  _

_ “Tradition, I suppose.” _

_ “You suppose?”  _

_ “It’s in the family.” _

“_Oh, I see.” _

_ “What about you?” He returns the question, looking sideways at her. A laugh escapes her and he’s not sure if it’s rhetorical. Still he smirks at the sound.  _

“_I’m a great disappointment to my mother. She wanted me to be a nurse.” _

_ “You? A nurse?”  _

_“Mhmm. I took after my father. He’s a law profes_sor.” _Diane continues, smiling with her teeth sunken into her lip. _

_ They pass by the second last tree and finish the walk in silence, until Diane comes to a stop at the last tree in front of her place.  _

“_This is me.” She explains her stopping and Kurt nods, head bobbing as he turns around. She catches him eye the building for a moment. “Thank you for tonight, and for walking me home.” _

_ “No problem. I enjoyed it.” Kurt smirks at her and she returns the expression, makes a turn to step up the stairs only to stop on the first one. _

“_Are you sure you’ll be alright walking back on your own?” Diane asks, looking down at him. _

_ “I’ll find the hotel someway.” Kurt shrugs, still not bothered. _

_ Diane steps off the flight again and stops a few inches from him. “Kurt, let me call you a cab.” _

_ “No, Diane really. I’ll be fine.”  _

“_And no more than twenty minutes ago when I was in your shoes, I needed to walk through side lanes and streets late at night with alcohol on my breath. Did you let me?” _

_ She’s challenging him, once again. It amuses him, how easy she can find something to rival him with. Yet the serious expression; eyebrows knitted, lips pursed, two light lines creasing her forehead, they make him shift his eyes across her face and she accepts his silence as his answer.  _

_ Her attention drops to her phone, now cupped between her rattling hands as she scrolls through her contacts. Kurt remains watching patiently, shifts closer hesitantly but recedes again.  _

_“Ah,_ _got it.” Diane announces, partially to herself and just as she looks up and is about to dial, his lips press to hers. _

_ His hands hold onto her upper arms, her arms trapped between them and she follows his subtle pull to step closer into him. Eyes closed and attention elsewhere; getting her phone into her pocket is clumsy. Once it’s there though, her hand curves around the base of his neck, fingers curling into his hair.  _

_ Pulling away is slow, neither wanting to move. His hands have lowered to her back and hers to his shoulders. It’s oddly intimate, more so than the last one, but neither can complain. She’s still shaking, but no longer from the cold and her knees are wobbly when she steps back. She grasps the metal bar along the steps, not bothered by how desperate it makes her look, nor how affected by him she is.  _

_ “Goodnight, Diane.” Kurt breathes into the night air, smirking at her again and he walks in the direction they’ve just come from.  _

_ “Kurt,” she calls, still up on the first step but not facing him, her hands on the bar.  _

_ He looks around at her and Diane bans the disapproving voice in her head; ignores the horrors of three generations of democratic ancestors screaming out in protest.  _

_ “Do you want to come inside?”  _

Another kiss comes and then another, and another, until Diane presses her fingers to his stubbly chin and pushes his lips from hers. It doesn’t make him stop though. Instead he raises his head to follow her, keeping a grip on her lips until she sits up straight and he flops back to the pillow.

“As much as I would love to stay here, I do need to get to work.” Diane drags her thumb across his lips, then brushes the backs of her fingers across his cheek, her fingertips grazing his hairline just as she drops her hand to his chest. 

Kurt covers her hand with his and draws little circles over it with his finger. This time there’s no toying remark or teasing glance, there’s no dragging her back to bed when she’s up and crossing the room. Instead he’s folded his arms behind his head and lays there in silence, watching as she goes about as if he’s not there. But she still shares a frequent look with him, when crossing to the closet, when returning to the bathroom, when emerging from the bathroom again. 

“You know for someone who had no energy two weeks ago, you've sure got a lot of it now.” 

“There’s a reason they call trimester two the honeymoon period.” Diane tells him, looking over her shoulder to wink at him. “As long as the morning sickness stops before we head into the country. I don’t want to ruin Regina’s celebrations. I was thinking we should wait until the day after her birthday to tell them. I mean it is her day, after all.”

“Di, telling Gina she’s about to become a grandmother will be the best gift we can give.”

She stops at the bathroom threshold and looks at him with a concerned look. “That reminds me, we need to stop by Nina Chicago.”

“For?” 

With a sly smirk, Diane shrugs her shoulder. “You’ll see.”

He harrumphs, doesn’t ask for anything more. Can tell from the gleam in her eye that something is on her mind, something good. That’s never been a bad thing before, and considering it’s probably referring to their baby he can only think of the best outcomes. 

“I’m heading to the range today, need to test out a few guns for possible cases. Want me to stop by your office for lunch?” 

“That would be nice.” Diane looks over at him to doubly confirm, then returns to choosing her outfit. 

He watches as she holds two dresses, one black with short sleeves, the other a royal blue with long, mesh sleeves. Both clearly expensive, both colours that highlight her unique shape. Yet there’s a look of puzzlement on her face, like for the first time in a long time she can’t truly make up her mind. 

“Blue.” 

“What’s that?” 

“The blue one. Brings out your eyes.” 

She looks at both dresses again, then over to him and smiles at the small compliment, said eyes shining with appreciation. He always likes what she wears, knows it even when he doesn’t say it. But when he does offer some input, she tends to carry herself a little differently, knowing what she’s wearing is something he’s particularly fond of. Like red. Anything red, and she can wrap him around her finger tighter than an elastic band. 

She hangs the black dress up again and flops the blue one over her arm, then grabs a pair of black suede pointed stilettos to go with. 

“Our first night together, I wore blue.” Diane suddenly hums, sitting on the chair by her dresser. 

“I remember.” His eyes twinkle, oh he certainly remembers. 

“I thought you couldn’t get my dress off fast enough.” 

He chuckles shortly, watches as she shrugs out of her bathrobe to step into the blue dress. It fits to her body like a plastic glove and it’s not even zipped yet. Her can see the bare skin of her arms, tinted a light blue from the meshy fabric running down to her wrist until it reaches a silk cuff again, a matching fabric to the body of her dress. 

“Can you zip me?” She asks while stepping into her heels, now at least four inches taller than her already tall figure. 

He nods, calls her over with a curl of his fingers and Diane walks around to his side of the bed and sits facing away from him. He pulls the zip up effortlessly and presses a hand to her back to let her know it’s done. She turns to face him, an arm moving to his shoulder. 

“What time are you hoping to stop by?” 

“Hopefully between two and three. Need me at a different time?” 

“No no, that’s perfect. Have you read that file I gave you Tuesday?” 

“Should be finishing the last test today, then you’ll have your result.” 

“And if you think he’s innocent you’ll be my expert?” She asks with hope, trying to conceal her relief. 

“I will. Usual fee.” He shrugs a shoulder, his impassive face causing her to chuckle. 

“I would expect no less.” She grins, bending forward to kiss him. “I’ll see you today.” 

“Mm.” Kurt nods, watches as she stands up and approaches the bathroom. 

She comes out with his shirt and her negligee in hand, tosses them into the basket in the corner of the room then looks over her shoulder at the bedroom door; ensuring she has everything she needs. He knows her coat and bag are in the hall since last night, but rather than tell her his eyes go to something else, unnoticed at first but now from the side, unable to be avoided. 

_ Her bump.  _

The slim dress while doing her body a favour, also showcases the protruding bump like an artefact on display in a museum. He blinks, still at times finding it hard to believe that they’re having a baby, that their baby is right there— _inside_ her. 

“See you two later.” He offers before she steps out of the room. 

The words make her stop and hesitate, then a hand flies to her belly and she tilts her head back a little with a smile. 

“And we’ll see you. I love you.” She sing-songs upon finally leaving the room, the sounds of her heels loud on the floor, then fading the further she steps away. 

“Love you too.”

The sound of her keys jangling and the door opening and closing all reach the bedroom in a quick flurry, then leave him there in silence; already missing her presence. A few seconds pass before he sits up and turns to plant his feet on the floor, his shoulders being rolled to ease away the stiffness. 

Yet he’s disturbed again by the sound of the door opening again, followed by keys on the hall-table, the sound of her coat and bag hitting the floor and soft clicks of her heels, then he’s met with silence. He wonders for a moment if he imagined the sounds, only for a blur of blue to catch his eye at the doorway. 

Kurt looks up and finds her leaning against the doorframe, a smile on her lips as if she’s a pupil skipping a class. 

“I sat into the car,” she begins as she steps towards him, sitting on the edge of the bed watching her curiously. “And I realised, with pregnancy comes these... _powerful_ hormones. And who am I to deny them?” 

Kurt immediately places his hands to her hips when she straddles him, the feeling of cold silk against his bare skin almost having a drugging effect. Or maybe that’s just _her_. 

Her arms curl around his neck and she presses a soft kiss to his lips. “I thought about it, about going to work.” 

“And?” He edges on gruffly, hoping for a certain answer. 

“I’m not taking the day off.” 

He almost questions her intentions but her voice satisfies his intrigue. 

“But if you want, you can make me late for work.” 

“Late?” 

“Mhm.” She hums as she closes her eyes, the sound muffled when she drags her lips over his. 

He’s suddenly aware of her pressing her hips into his, the movement of her body against his almost making him delirious. 

“What’s my time?” 

“I was thinking two hours but—“ 

He doesn’t need anything else, just uses the hand on the back of her head to pull her face to his.   



	16. 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my beta that despite being out doing her own thing, she still took the time to help out with this and tell me her thoughts! <3.
> 
> A/N; flashbacks referring to miscarriage, partial self-abuse (nothing excessive or extreme). But this chapter is mostly just our favourite lawyer and her adoring mother-in-law.

Diane stumbles out of the bathroom and coughs quietly, her eyes slowly closing as the repulsive taste of acid lingers on her pallet. Wiping her mouth with her thumb, she straightens up from the wall and makes her way downstairs again, hoping her rushed getaway didn’t attract much attention. When she rounds the corner to the kitchen she finds everyone still standing around in a little group; Gina, Frank, John, and Gina’s and Frank’s oldest friends and neighbours, Bill and Lucy. 

Except the one person she’s looking for. No one seems to notice her lingering at the entry to the room so she makes her way to the far end of the kitchen. Kurt’s leaning against the counter, arms crossed in front of his chest and his knee bent; the toe of his boot pressed into the tiled floor. His head is hanging slightly but instantly raises when he sees her, his eyebrow crooking into a gentle arc.

“You alright?” Kurt asks lowly, looking directly at her. 

“It’s not as bad as it was. Let’s hope it will wear off in the next few weeks, shall we? I don’t want Regina thinking I’m beginning to dislike her meals.” 

“I think you’re forgetting the fact you helped cook today’s dinner.” 

She closes her eyes and shushes him, her hands extending to grasp his elbows. The breathy hiss makes him smirk down at her, shorter than usual with her flashy heels replaced by casual flats. 

“You still ate it and you’re not sick.” Diane counters, returning his smirk.

He shrugs. “There’s still time.” 

Her jaw drops. “Oh, you–“

Her words disintegrate when his lips touch hers, his tongue stealing the words on the tip of hers when it grazes her lower lip. She stumbles into him, hands still firm on his elbows while his arms circle her waist and hold her flush to him. 

“ _Stop it.” She demands and tilts her head, attempting to hide her neck from his kisses. “Kurt.” _

_“I’m just standing here.” _

_“And touching me, and kissing me.” Diane adds, glancing at him over her shoulder. _

_He mumbles something in his defence, seems to give up when he sees the disbelieving glare she gives him. Sometimes he forgets she’s a (damn good) lawyer. _

_“I like kissing you.” _

_“Oh what a romantic you are.” Diane sighs, her eyes closing at their ow_n _will when his mouth touches the skin behind her ear. “Kurt, I told you I wanted to make your parents breakfast this morning and if you keep this up all they’ll be getting is a very abrupt awakening by the smoke alarm.” _

“_Then turn the stove off.” Kurt says it so matter-of-factly, she scoffs out a sharp chuckle. _

_She shakes her head, contemplates the ridiculous thought for a moment and decides against it. _

“_We are not having sex in your parents kitchen.” _

_“Who said anything about sex?” He counters and instantly catches her gaze. _

“_Isn’t that what this is about?” Diane asks a little dumbfounded, her eyebrows knitting in confusion._

“_What time do your parents usually get up?”_

_ “A little after eight.” Kurt shrugs. “What time is...it, now?” He almost asks himself, his head turning to follow her gaze to the clock. “Forty minutes.”  _

“_Twenty to make breakfast.” _

_“And twenty,” he inches closer, fingers curling around the strings of her pyjamas pants and drawing her hips to his. “For_ _us.” _

_“Oh,” she nods, the exclamation feigned and deliberately teasing; her head bobs in subtle movements, her lips open to reveal the tips of white teeth, the same deceitful glimmer now in her eyes. “We_ _can do a lot in twenty minutes.” _

_ Kurt snorts silently at that, his face inching down and he presses his lips to her neck, grazes her skin with peppering kisses. “Turn the stove off.”  _

_ She breathes out into the silent morning and wraps her arm around his neck, holding him to her. And with that, she awkwardly leans to the side to flick off the stove.  _

“Here. I made this while you went upstairs.” Kurt offers her the mug and from the scent she can tell it’s ginger tea. 

“Thank you.” She takes the mug, her gratitude evident in her eyes. 

She takes a few sips, timidly at first. But after a few minutes she can already feel the tea work wonders; the nausea disappearing slowly. He grunts just enough for her to hear and she quirks her lips a little, silently assuring him as she takes another larger sip. The secretive exchange doesn’t last long, their private moment invaded when Diane’s eyes are pulled away from Kurt’s at Gina’s voice asking her how she’s feeling. 

There’s a knowing gleam in the older woman’s eyes, telling Diane they’ve been under surveillance longer than what’s being let on. She smiles a little, blotches of coral still graffitiing her lips in the corners and lingering in the grooves of her mouth. Softly clearing her throat she makes her way towards her mother-in-law, her husband following behind and coming to stop at her side. He almost clicks into her side like a puzzle-piece, her shoulder fitting in just below his shoulder. 

“I’ll be fine. I think it’s the sudden humidity and the long car ride.” Diane shrugs her shoulder and looks to Kurt who nods the affirmative. 

Yet Gina only hums and sizes them both up. She’s no longer interested in the tease Frank and John are attempting to draw her into. The stare unnerves Diane and she sips her tea again to casually break it. 

“ _ You’re in a mighty fine mood.”  _

_Kurt’s head raises at his mother’s words and he looks at her, sitting at her usual spot at the table. She’s eyeing him over_ _her toast, held directly in front of her mouth. Rather than answer he nods and goes back to cooking his eggs. _

“_Where’s Diane?” Gina continues, her eyebrow raising when Kurt hesitates and looks out the door of the kitchen. _

“_Upstairs.” _

_ “In bed?”  _

“_No. She was down earlier. She made breakfast, she just ran up to get dressed.” Kurt shrug and flips his eggs. _

_A hum comes from his mother. He hopes after all this time of being with Diane, he’s managed to pick up a few lawyerly ways to conceal a white lie. Of course she’s in bed, probably asleep again or_ _stepping into the shower. Still, his face remains impassive as he keeps his eyes glued to the pan on the stove, his eyes only going to his mother when she bites into her toast again._

_The rest of his cooking is done in silence and he feels both unnerved and relieved when he hears Diane stepping down the stairs. She enters the kitchen, flashes him a secretive grin and crosses to the countertop to fill a mug of coffee for them both. That’s when he realises it was the latter, her damp hair darker than the sleek blonde it often boasts and traded for a deeper shade, almost like a foxy brown. He finds himself musing how she has a tendency to look good with any_ _hair colour. _

_ “I chopped some fruit for you.” Kurt tells her as he scrapes his eggs onto the plate.  _

_ She smiles at him gratefully and only then notices the bowl beside his plate. She crosses back to him, her hand pressing to his shoulder as she investigates his and her breakfasts.  _

_“You’re good to me.” She smiles, her lips curling just as she presses her lips to his_ _cheek. She grabs her fruit bowl and turns away to walk to the table. “Good morning.” _

_ “Morning hon.” Gina greets, smiling kindly in her direction. “Sleep well?”  _

_Diane immediately pauses and her move to sit down is slower than normal. “Great, thanks. You?” _

_“Wonderfully.” _

_Diane nods, forces a small smile and grabs a fork from the table. She opts to avoid talking, sticks to eating and taking her time to prolong her inability to maintain a conversation; even though the older woman seems intent on carrying on one. By the time Gina has left the room and Kurt’s sitting across from her she’s nearly finished her own breakfast. _

_“What?” He asks, looking at her in confusion. _

“_She knows.” Diane almost grumbles, her head falling into her palm. _

_“No she doesn’t.” _

“_Kurt, did you see how she was looking at us?” _

_“I thought you were supposed to be jumpy during sex. Not after it.” _

_“Shut up! This is serious. How am I supposed to face them if they know?” _

“_You hardly expect them to believe you’re a virgin.” _

_Her eyes nearly roll out of her head at that, her fingers pressing to her nose as_ _she clasps her hands. _

_“Not from the way you made the bed_ creak.” _She counters, her tone catching him off guard. She reaches out and covers his hand. “I’m sorry, I just don’t want to give them the wrong impression.”_

“_Diane,” he sighs, lips smacking as he wipes them with his tongue; much less graceful than her usual quirk. “They love having you here. If they didn’t, do you think they’d be this comfortable with you? My mother, if she doesn’t like_ _someone, believe me she lets them know.” _

_ “What if she’s just doing that for you?”  _

“_She’s not. I know her. And considering I’m just like her and I love you, she’s bound to love you too.”_

_She smiles at that, less anxious this time. Rather than answer she finishes her breakfast by swallowing back the last of her watermelon. _

“Hey, you alright?” Kurt nudges her, the move making her blink furiously. 

There’s a look of concern on their faces but Diane shakes it off and smiles instead. 

“Yeah. But you know what, I think I’m going to get some air.” Diane glances at both Kurt and Gina, then moves to the front door in rushed steps.

He lets her go, knows she needs a moment alone to collect herself. Gina is about to follow when he calls out, encourages her to stay for a moment. The older woman eases back to her seat and shares a look with her son who shakes his head. He’s been wondering if it’s actually morning sickness or nerves that’s getting to her. 

Outside sitting on the swing chair on the porch Diane brushes her thumb over her cardigan covered bump, her hand resting on it comfortingly. It’s a view she loves; the secretiveness of it. The trees form an alcove on the drive which makes it disappear the whole way back to the main road; which is so far out the house is unnoticeable. The air smells clean and pure and sharp in her lungs, like it’s waking her up from a measly nap. It’s peaceful and calm and the sway and song of the trees as the wind blows through them is like a lullaby, making her head fall back as she rocks herself on the chair, from her heel to her toes. 

She doesn’t hear Kurt approach. Doesn’t hear the door open or close, or the sound of his boots on the wooden porch. He leans against the wall and watches her, eyes closed, sunken into the swing as she rests and breathes in deeply, expels it a moment later through ovally pursed lips. 

“_Honey, what in God’s name are you doing out here at this time of the morning?” Gina nearly hisses into the air, the sound spooking Diane into twisting around. _

_ A grimace stretches across the blonde’s face and Gina rushes to her, her hands pressing to her daughter-in-law’s back and arm as she helps her stand up. Gina can see Diane withhold the expletive dying to escape her when she sinks her teeth down into her lip.  _

_“Let’s get you to bed.” Gina sighs but_ _Diane stops and shakes her head._

_ “I can’t. Not yet.”  _

_ Gina frowns. “Then lets have some tea in the kitchen.”  _

_ Together they enter the kitchen, Gina aiding her to sit down despite Diane’s reassurances. She chalks it’s up to the odd twinge in her back, but both of them know it goes deeper than that .  _

_ When the lights are flicked on Diane grimaces and closes her eyes, the low moan that escapes her earning an apology from Gina as she dims down the brightness. Diane utters another reassurance, the only words she seems to be able to produce being  it’s okay and yet whenever someone seems to be consoling her with those words, she wants to lash out. Because right now, nothing is okay.  _

_ “Here you go, honey.” Gina places the mug of camomile tea down in front of Diane.  _

_ Her blue eyes, dark and almost greyish; lifeless, fall to it. The white ceramic looks cream in the dim light, as opposed to the low neon blue the darkness and the moon tends to give it sometimes. The teabag is still in the boiling water, the steam rising from it in thin clouds and disintegrating into the air between them. She doesn’t reach out, doesn’t bother reaching for the small tag and bobbing it to release a stronger flavour. She lets it sit and simply stares, her eyes only moving to Gina’s at the call of her name.  _

“_Are you tired?” Gina asks, cautiously entering conversation. _

_Diane inhales sharply before talking, her voice low and monotonous. “Yes. I just_ _can’t sleep. I don’t want to keep Kurt up if I’m turning around trying to get comfy all the time.” _

_ “He wouldn’t mind. You know how he is.”  _

“_It’s not fair on him, Regina.” _

_“But it’s not fair on you either, honey.” The older woman reminds her as she_ _sips her tea. _

_ Diane drops her eyes to the mug again, waiting to be used. “Maybe it is.”  _

_Gina pauses at that, her mug returning to the table more hastily than intended. It makes Diane blink a few times._

“_What makes you think that?” _

_“I didn’t sleep enough when I_ was _pregnant. And now...” she trails off when tears prick at her eyes. _

_ “It’s not your fault, Diane.” Gina reaches out immediately; her hand covers Diane’s.  _

_“Regina,” she shakes her head, her eyes closing as she swallows her emotions back as much as she can. “Kurt has_ _been wanting children for the last two years, and I told him once we settled down we could plan. And not only did I just lose his baby but I...” her hand nearly reaches her face, the intention being to wipe the_ _unshed tears yet to fall, but instead her hand seems to lose its ability to function and drops to her lap. “I can’t carry, not anymore. How am I supposed to feel content about that? I can’t give him what he wants.” _

_ Gina listens with an empathetic look on her face, wishing nothing more than being able to save her daughter-in-law from the pain she’s enduring.  _

_ “If you couldn’t give him what he wants, then he wouldn’t be here. But he is, and believe me you. He’s not going anywhere. You two have managed more challenges than anyone I know in the past six years, and you always bounce back. It’ll get better but it’ll take time.”  _

_ Diane just shakes her head, wanting to ask if her words are even being listened to. But she knows her mother-in-law is trying to help her, trying to make her feel better in some sort of way. And for that she appreciates it.  _

_ “Do you know how difficult I find it when Kurt is deployed every year? Months of not seeing him, not talking to him, not knowing he’s safe. Diane, the thoughts of that makes me sick and I’m his mother. I can see that there’s nothing else on your mind except him when he’s out there. And despite the pain you feel having to let him go and do what he’s called for, you do it. You let him take time to work for six months, four months, seven months just this year. Honey if you can triumph that, then he’s going to give you time to get over this hurdle and he’s going to be right by your side.”  _

_Diane finally reaches out for her tea, still too hot but she pays no attention to the warning of piping ceramic and puffing steam. When it hits her tongue she doesn’t even react, not until it’s going back her throat and she’s snapped from her thoughts. The cup hits the table forcibly and she winces away the pain lingering in her mouth. In her haste she watches Gina rise to pour some cold_ _water from the tap into her mug and return it. _

_“What do you say we head to bed, hm?”_ _Gina suggests, eyes on Diane’s impassive features as she looks out the window. _

_“I think I’m going to finish this out on the porch.” Diane decides instead, her fingers curling around the handle again even though her interest in the camomile is vague. “Please don’t wake Kurt.” _

_Gina’s about to answer when she notices the shadow like form of the man of their discussion, leaning against the wall in silence as he waits for a moment to interrupt. Diane catches her pause and looks over her shoulder, wincing as sh_e _does; knowing she probably woke him up. _

_ “Ma, could you give us a while.” Kurt asks, his rough, sleepy voice gently barks into the silence and Gina nods, gets up and gives his hand a squeeze —  _ take care of her _ , before departing for her room.  _

_ Silence surrounds them again until Diane stands up, clutching the mug with her fingers. When she turns around he’s still standing there, frowning at her and she realises he didn’t come to talk, nor try to reassure her through her thoughts. He just came,  for her. The camomile tea is poured down the sink, the cup left on the draining board. But when she doesn’t turn around again, instead bends forward to rest her elbows on the counter, he realises what’s happening. He approaches quickly and timidly wraps his arms around her from behind, trying to hold her comfortingly without hurting her as her body begins to rattle, each jerk growing bigger than the last as the emotion she’s been suppressing breaks out in tears.  _

“ Penny for your thoughts,” Kurt announces his presence as he moves to join her. 

She watches him, a small smile on her lips. “Is that all they’re worth, a penny?” 

He returns the sly smile she’s offering and sits down, his arm naturally curling around her shoulders. She rests her head against him and reaches over for his other hand, using it to rest on her bump, her own hand covering his. 

“What were you thinking about?” He murmurs into her hair, looks down at her and wavers his gaze between her eyes and their hands. 

“This.” She smiles a little bigger, her thumb brushing across the hills of his knuckles. 

He hums and rocks the chair, more effectively than she’s been doing. She gives her leg some reprieve by raising it from the floor. They stay there for a while, Diane finally revealing her actual train of thought and how she feels about telling his family, considering they’ve been there for her more than her own. He offers some words of reassurance and encouragement, and she would be amazed by the amount of words he’s using if she wasn’t taking his advice so seriously. 

“Kurt,” she looks up, “we should tell them.”

“We should.” He mumbles in agreement and draws a chuckle from her. 

“Now?”

He looks down at her, tries to decipher if she’s ready, or feigning it. She blinks, revealing bright blue eyes that the swaying tree behind him reflects in. Satisfied and confident with his conclusion, he nods once, and she smiles in return. 

“I’ll get the stuff from the car.” Diane sighs contentedly but his hand tapping her thigh tells her to stay put. 

She watches as he steps down the drive to the truck, leans in the passenger side and pulls out a small rectangular, cream bag with baby pink crepe paper sticking out over the edges. When he reaches the porch again, Diane pushes up from the seat and stands, her arms raising up in a stretch. She looks over at him gazing up from the steps of the porch and narrows her eyes. 

“What?” 

“I’m just wondering how long more you’ll be able to stand up without needing my help.” 

She scoffs and turns away, but quickly looks over her shoulder at him again. “Keep talking about it and I won’t be asking for your help when it happens.” 

Before he can get out a response she’s stepping in the front door and he quickly chases her.

“And what happens when you’re home alone?” He continues upon reaching her inside the kitchen, his question drawing Gina and Frank’s attention, as well as Diane’s. 

“I’ll just push myself up without you.” She shrugs, smirking slightly at him. 

Kurt stands beside her, about to counter again except his eyes flicker to the discreet gazes of his almost-worried looking parents. Diane bites back a winning remark and crosses her arms over her chest. When they look in the direction of the other couple; Gina stands by the sink cleaning the crockery with Frank drying it and stacking it in front of him.

“Regina, it’s your birthday we should be doing that for you.” Diane steps forward, her hand brushing over the shorter woman’s back. 

“I told her but she insisted.” Frank answers instead and Diane looks at him, offering to take the pile of dried crockery from the counter in front of him. 

He hands them to her with an appreciative smile and after she places them inside the cabinet, she turns and leans against the counter across the kitchen near Kurt again. The bag hangs from his curled fingers at his side and he hands it to Diane almost secretively.

“Uh, Gina.“ Diane starts, her voice — her _name_, immediately getting the other woman’s attention. 

Gina’s gaze falls to the bag now in Diane’s hands and she smiles, nearly condescendingly. 

“Diane, you already gave me plenty today.” Gina dries her hands and clasps them in front of her. 

Diane looks at Kurt who purses his lips with a small smirk and gives an encouraging dip of his head. 

“Yes, but this one isn’t from us.” Diane returns her gaze to the now curious woman. “There’s actually two gifts inside. One for you both to enjoy, and one for you to enjoy, Regina.” Diane tells them as she offers the bag; lets it dangle in the air from the very tips of her fingers. 

The confused look shared by Kurt’s parents makes them look at each other again, Kurt this time moving to Diane’s side. 

“We think you’ll really like this one.”

Diane nods in agreement, her hand falling to her side when Gina takes the bag from her. 

“If it’s not from you then who’s it from?” 

Diane opens her mouth but only lets out a breath, her eyes wavering to Kurt’s for a moment. “Well, we’d like to know as much as you but we don’t know just yet.” 

“Are you...?” Gina begins slowly, her words fading away at the nod and smile of confirmation on her daughter-in-law’s face.

“Have a look in the bag.” Diane encourages, her hand brushing over Gina’s to bring her out of her statue-like-form. 

Gina pulls the crepe paper away, using one arm to hold the bag and her hand to rummage through it with Frank shifting his gaze between the bag’s contents and the pair standing in front of him. There’s a look of confusion still on his face which makes Diane look at Kurt, her lips pressed tight together to conceal her giddy laughter. He shakes his head knowingly, curls his arm around her waist as they wait. 

“Wool?” Frank states when he takes the pastel yellow and white from his wife, his eyes going to Kurt’s, then Diane’s, for some sort of answer. 

“We don’t know anyone who enjoys knitting more than Regina, and we’re going to need a few blankets in about six months.”

It’s the sharp gasp from Gina that makes him look at her again, this time holding a small white envelope in her hands. 

“Who’s it from?” Frank edges on, only for Gina to smack his arm. 

Finally Diane’s laughter seeps out in a low chuckle and Frank looks at her expectantly as she approaches and enters Gina’s offered embrace, a frown on the grey haired man when he notices the tears trailing down her cheeks. Diane chuckles softly and closes her eyes, absorbing as much of Gina’s affection as possible in the hopes it can make up for the lack of interest her own mother showed. 

“Wait,” Frank finally breaks the silence again, watching as the two women part. 

His eyes shift between Diane and Kurt and that’s when Diane realises he knows too. Her head tilts and she watches as his lip begins to tremble, his own eyes watering up. Kurt steps forward this time to embrace his father, Diane and Gina sharing a look as Frank murmurs something to his son, then pulls away. Kurt nods and Diane finds herself smiling at the sight of his contentment, until her eyes break from his to meet Frank’s as he approaches her. Gina’s hand falls from her back when Diane gets drawn in for another hug; this time taking in the emotions of her father-in-law. He presses a small kiss to her cheek upon expressing his congratulations, his hands squeezing on hers when they step away from one another again. 

“There’s a scan photograph in the envelope.” Diane tells them and the envelope that was dropped into the bag again, now on the table, gains the older couple’s attention. 

Kurt slides his arm around Diane’s waist again, her head falling to his shoulder as they watch the other two open the envelope and react to the sight. 

“_Baby McVeigh_, due October twenty-fourth.” Gina reads aloud, her eyes then going to Diane and Kurt, still waiting, still smiling. 

“I thought you... couldn’t.” Frank says lowly, eyes trailing over the photograph.

“So did we.” Kurt nods, looking to his wife after a moment to almost gauge her reaction.

She’s beaming, more brightly than he’s seen in some time. “We know it’s unexpected and we weren’t even trying, it just happened.” 

“Well I’ll tell you something; it’s unexpected, but it’s the best gift I could’ve gotten.” Gina answers the moment Diane finishes. 

Diane watches as Frank drifts off into his mind, his eyes still fixed on the photo, the paper absolutely tiny within his fingers. Similar to Kurt’s, she realises and the thought makes her chuckle silently to herself. She keeps her eyes on him as he falls into the chair at the table and the way his jaw sets and his nose twitches in an aim to conceal his emotions reminds her too much of the man at her side, holding her to him with a comforting arm around her; his fingers curling and extending across her hip bone in a slow, distracted manner as he continues to talk to his mother; answering questions he doesn’t even know answers to.

“A few weeks time isn’t it?” Kurt asks and looks at Diane, his gaze pulling hers from Frank. 

“What’s that dear?” 

“The next scan.” 

“Oh, yes. That’s the next big thing coming up.” Diane nods and looks to Gina, knowing she’s responding to her question rather than Kurt’s. “I’m sure it’s the week– oh,” 

Diane looks down, her vibrating phone catching her attention. Upon seeing the caller, she glances at them both but waits for the look of approval from Kurt before excusing herself and stepping into the hallway. 

Kurt eyes her for a moment, watches as she places her hand against her lower back and raises the phone to her ear. Then, he turns back to face Gina who’s also eyeing the busy blonde. 

  
“I presume Ed and Lillian know,” Gina states upon looking at Kurt again, who nods. “How did she take it?”

Kurt opens his mouth, but his lips purse again when he realises there’s no words to quite explain his mother-in-law’s reaction. 

“Let’s just say it left such an impact that the whole reason she’s been skipping off to the bathroom is to relieve her nerves.” Kurt murmurs, his lips tensing upon finishing. 

Gina’s eyes widen. “That wasn’t morning sickness?” 

Kurt shakes his head and Gina looks up, semi-rolling her eyes. He knows he doesn’t need to say much more, nothing else even. Diane’s dependence on his mother after her miscarriage is proof enough to the clearly agitated woman. 

“Edward?” Gina continues, the name pronounced with such hope that Kurt knows if the truth hurt, he would sugar-coat it somehow. 

“We met with him earlier this week for lunch, just the three of us. We had a more pleasant experience then.” 

“Oh, thank God.” 

“Lillian asked her a few weeks ago but Di denied it. Least that’s why she thinks Lillian was so... dismissive.” 

“That’s her grandchild, doesn’t she realise that?” Gina’s voice grows louder, resulting in Kurt showing her his palm in the attempt to calm her, while Frank also moves to grasp her elbow.

“That woman doesn’t even realise Diane is her _daughter_ anymore.” Frank counters before Kurt can respond. 

“Yeah and look what it’s caused. How often does Diane visit her parents now?” 

“Ma, I know Lillian isn’t your favourite character. She’s not mine either and I  see what she does to Diane. But for Di’s sake, let’s keep out of it.” Kurt stops the conversation before it goes too far, and only hopes the suddenly broody expressions drawn on his parents faces will wear off in a moment. 

“Sorry about that. Stern seems to enjoy keeping me on my toes lately.” 

“Again?” Kurt looks to her, the question earning a nod of response.

“Again?” Gina repeats, eyeing them both.

“I haven’t told them about the baby yet.” Diane clarifies with a small bounce of her eyebrows. 

“When do you think you’ll tell them?” 

“Well, we’re thinking about around when I can’t conceal it anymore.” 

“She doesn’t want Stern to treat her differently.” Kurt amends and Diane scoffs lowly. 

“Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. Considering your workload lately.” Frank rejoins their discussion, his irritation seeming to have dissipated.

“Once the chaos that came with the merger settles, I’ll be able to bring a few paralegals on and I should be able to delegate the work more easily than I have been.” Diane almost chuckles awkwardly, her eyes shifting to Kurt’s and nearly seeking help.

When he opens his mouth Diane closes her eyes out of relief, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. She’s aware the grandparents-to-be are just concerned for her and their grandchild’s wellbeing, considering the ordeal they suffered four years ago. But she’s confident now, knows that this time everything is going to go to plan. And while it fell upon Kurt to drill that through to her mind, now it’s upon both him and her to drill it into Gina and Frank’s mind. 

“What about maternity leave?”

“Ma–“

“It’s okay.” Diane reassures, her hand curling around his waist and pressing into his hip. “I’m going to work as much as possible and get whatever I can done now and within the coming months. Then once I’m not needed as much as I am now, I’ll go on leave. Hopefully the longer I last, the longer I’ll have off to spend time at home with Kurt and the baby.” 

It’s an answer that visibly satisfies her in-laws, but it’s when she looks up at Kurt and finds him, too, more content than she’s seen lately, she realises just what it means to him. He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t need to. The kiss he presses to her temple speaks for itself. 

“Are you going to find out what you’re having?” Gina’s question bursts their little bubble, something they’re both reluctant to emerge from despite how quickly they slipped into it, and how brief it lingered. 

“No.” Diane shakes her head slightly, her eyes meeting Kurt’s again for expected confirmation. 

“Well, whatever you have Heaven knows we’re going to love their every inch.” 

Diane smiles at that, but husband and wife’s gaze never ends. And when Kurt smiles down at her, she knows she doesn’t need anymore words and instead she remains silent to let him speak.

“Yeah. We are too.” 


	17. 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N!: 
> 
> A lot of flashbacks this time!  
The first one is set just a few days prior to the current events of the chapter. However the rest of the flashbacks are set four years before the current day. 
> 
> In addition; there are graphic miscarriage details in this chapter; from the beginning of the miscarriage to the end. Please if it is a trigger or something you’re not comfortable with, skip the italics! 
> 
> Many thanks to my beta, this chapter took a completely different turn to the originally plotted idea and a lot of ideas go to her. 
> 
> And for Amphorae, here’s the first (tiny) Lillian/Gina interaction! 
> 
> Thank you all for your continuous support of this little bombshell of mine! <3

He sits beside the bed and watches as she fumbles with the buttons of her blouse, her hands too shaky to grip the small white plastic. He’s never seen her reduced to such fear before, the sight nearly even scares him. It’s amazingly strange, that this whole idea of having a baby causes so much anxiety. And with the confidence they now have in knowing their baby is safe, that fear is more to do with the already impulsive, natural, parental instinct to protect, to care for. 

He’s seen it a lot in the past week alone; he doesn’t know if it’s her hormones or her new view on life, but whatever it is it’s influencing him just as much. They’d had the joy of looking after Maia for a night the previous weekend and maybe he’d just never noticed it from a parental view before, but his wife, well, all he could think was that he was  lucky . He couldn’t have wanted anyone else to be the mother of his child; the thought even seems impossible to conjure and he knows he’ll only hurt his mind if he tries to think of it, because he’ll be waiting a long time and straining for so long, well, it wouldn’t do any him any good. Not to mention be a waste of his time. 

_A loud cackle erupts through the house, along with the sudden chesty cough right after it; cutting into it as if it isn’t intentional. Kurt snorts a small chuckle and shakes his head, his eyes going back to the file in his hands as he sits on the edge of the couch; elbows on his knees as he tries to focus. But more laughter, followed by a surprised yelp and the softer, squeakier, childish laugh of their niece takes over. He can hear his wife utter something before descending into more laughter; the two of them, whatever they are finding so amusing, clearly have no consideration for him as he tries to work. _

_Seeing th_at _the ruckus isn’t going to end anytime soon Kurt flops the file onto the table and stands; makes his way to the kitchen with delicate footsteps to conceal his presence. He doesn’t want to interrupt, he wants to watch them in their natural element, just see them interacting however it is they are. And when he rounds the corner and stops at the door of the kitchen, the sight before him not only catches him off guard, but also surprises and amuses him. He’s never quite seen this side of his wife. His plaid shirt hangs_ _on her still petite frame, sleeves rolled up to just before her elbows, the buttons untied to reveal the white t-shirt beneath; her bump protruding; highlighted. The navy plaid with red stripes almost frames it; like it’s signifying just how important that swell of her body is. _

_Well, what was navy is now dusty with flour, her arms boasting a few blotches of the pale powder, along with her face. If he squints he’s sure he can see fingerprints on her face and then his suspicion is confirmed when he sees Diane close her eyes and scrunch her face up as Maia brushes a hand across her head; tufts of flour falling from her forehead, some getting caught on her cheeks and nose. Her pink lips are nearly the same colour as her chin until her tongue sticks out, and suddenly there’_s _pale pink in a dusty sea of creamish powder. _

_ Diane raises her hand, clearly about to retaliate and toss some flour back to the small redhead sitting on the isle-top; covered in flour, crockery, baking trays, and many other ingredients. Until a beep, long yet quick, comes from the oven and both of them look to it.  _

_ “You’re lucky.” Diane teases and steps in closer to the small girl; the goddaughter smiling cheekily at her godmother when she presses her forehead to hers. _

_ Maia suddenly moves away, almost regretting the move. “You’ll get it in my hair!”  _

_ “Oh I’m so sorry about that.” Diane chuckles, a look of disbelief on her features.  _

_ When she steps back, she catches the redhead off guard and throws the handful of flour at her; intentionally tossing the powder into her long red hair.  _

_ “Aunt Di!” A small squeak, followed by petite hands covering her locks.  _

_Diane chuckles when moving to the stove and after slipping on an oven-mitt, she opens the oven and drags the scorching tray out. She can hear Maia’s feet land on the tiles behi_nd _her and Diane looks over her shoulder._

_ “What do you think?” She asks, eyeing the redhead who peeks over the blonde’s shoulder with interest.  _

_ After a moment of intense decision making, a grin appears on her face.  _

_ “Perfect!”  _

_ “Yeah? I think so too.”  _

_Kurt can only smile. Seems like she is pretty good with cooking and baking after all. _

Rising and approaching the bed Kurt covers her hands with his and moves them away, offers a reassuring look with his brown eyes and then unbuttons her blouse just enough to reveal the still small baby bump. 

A rattled breath escapes her and he looks up to her eyes again as he moves both halves of her blouse to her sides, his thumb grazing her skin gently. 

“Thank you.” Diane sighs, smiling slightly at him. 

“Why are you so nervous?” Kurt asks as he brushes her hair off her forehead. “You’ve been fine these past few weeks.”

“I don’t know. I... I think it’s because we never got this far and we’re going to see them again.” Diane looks to him and watches as he returns his hands to her; this time zipping down her trousers and turning the edges down. 

_A hiccup of a groan departs her lips, followed by a hissed out breath. Kurt, all while still in a sleepy daze, soon becomes aware of the unusual sounds and turns his head to look over at his wife. She’s turned away from him, the shape of the bed covers on her body revealing she’s curled up. It makes his eyebrows furrow for a moment, his mind racing as to why she isn’t laying into his side as she usually does — she has a tendency to follow him,_ _her body automatically following the source of heat during the night. And, she’s often told him how comfortable he is. Not a usual compliment, but he takes it. It tends to amuse him, how the most random words fall from her lips in her most vulnerable moments. _

_“Di,” Kurt falls into the morning silence, his arm moving to touch her back beneath the covers. “Hon?” _

_“Morning.” Diane murmurs back, the roll of her jaw telling him she’s just swallowed back a lump of pain. _

_It’s after he has shifted closer he realises she is writhing, occasionally rolling slightly onto her front; with her arms curled around her. _

_“Diane, what is it?” Kurt edges when she doesn’t say anything else. _

_He doesn’t know if she’s avoiding his concern or just not recognising it. Still facing awa_y _from him, her body remains rigid and writhes and he isn’t sure exactly what is wrong, resulting in his patience diminishing quicker than it usually does. _

_“Cramps.” _

_“Oh.” He breathes out a little at that, not as tense, but still concerned. _

“_They started during the night, but that’s normal right?”_

_ Kurt almost stutters; clearly he has no idea. He looks down at her pale, sweaty complexion and frowns.  _

“_I should take you to the doctor.” _

_“Kurt, don’t be ridiculous. It came and went through the night it’ll pass in a little while. I’m not awake very long.” She sounds irritated; her hormones and her body adjusting to the baby? He presumes so. _

_“Is there anything I can do? Hot compress, tea, more blankets?” He suggests, which washes away the pained look on her face for a moment as she looks to him with an appreciative glance. _

_“Tea would be,” a small smile appears on her face, “really great. Please.” _

_“Yeah, of course.” He returns the simper and closes that inch of distance between them to kiss her forehead. _

_“Could you drive me to the courthouse? We could stop by the doctors after recess.” _

_ He hides the frown that forms inside his mouth. She still wants to go to work? Usually he admires her strength, but not this time. This time he’d prefer if she would just stay in bed, sip her tea and sleep. But he doesn’t say anything, just nods. _

“_Thank you.” She sighs softly and turns her head away again, her arms loosening from around her body to push herself up to sit. _

_She inhales a few heavy breaths and then stands up. She can barely move and he wants_ _to simply drag her into the car and take her to the doctor now, but he knows the suggestion would be met with opposition again. And this is her body, after all. She knows it better than anyone else, and if she isn’t too concerned, maybe neither should he. _

_Yet when he drops his h_ead, _something catches his eyes and he looks up again; catching it just before she turns the corner to enter the bedroom. Blood. Along the back of her pyjama pants. Isn’t that supposed to stop during pregnancy? _

_Kurt is about to ask, only for her to close the bathroom door. Instead he rises to make her tea._

“You’ve got nothing to worry about.” He says promisingly as he eases back to his seat and drags the chair closer to the bed. 

Diane watches as he brings her hand to his mouth, his moustache scratching the delicate skin of her palm when he traces his lips across her hand. It’s a ticklish sensation, one that calms her, and when his eyes meet hers his lips curl at the corners, almost shyly, the sound of her chuckle lightening his mood instantly. She pulls her hand away to brush her fingers through his hair, her hand coming to rest at the back of his head. 

“Scary to think in just a few months you’re going to be pushing that kid out.” 

“Oh God Kurt it’s too soon.” Diane turns her head away, her eyes closing and Kurt’s laughter echoes gently around the room. 

When she looks at him again she realises he’s teasing her, attempting to relax her. A sigh escapes her and his thumb traces over her knuckles, her hand back in his again for that touch of support he so happily provides her with. 

“I can’t believe you’re pregnant.” 

Diane lifts her head off the bed, neck bones protruding already sheer skin at the tense hold and crane of her head. Her eyebrow lifts, curious and enlightened by his honest revelation. She watches him, staring at the bump. Their baby beneath her skin, buried deep within her; growing this very second, this very moment, preparing to greet them in several months, planning to turn their lives upside down for the better; concocting many ways to keep them up at night, make them haggard during the day, make their ears ring with shrill cries when hungry and make their ears sing with their gentle coos after a good meal or pampering. 

“I know.” She whispers back in time, smiling again, but differently now. 

A knowing smile, of mutual understanding and a different kind of love. A love like no other, something so strong and pure that they’ve come to create through years of hardship. 

“_I need to get a move on if I want to beat the morning traffic.” Diane tells him as she pops another grape into her mouth. _

_He sips his coffee to hide his disapproval. Not even her make up can hide the pale, dampish complexion on her porcelain skin. Whatever pain she’s in now, she’s only half-as-good at concealing it. There’s still the sudden reach to her belly or the close of her eyes as she grounds herself. _

“_Are you sure about this?” Kurt asks again, only to get a nod from her. _

_“It’s court Kurt, they need me. But I promise to call you the moment I’m done and you can even hold my hand in the doctor’s office.” She smiles at him, but the soft joke doesn’t amuse him as much as it normally would. _

_She crosses the kitchen to him and bends over to kiss him. Yet the slight gasp that comes before her lips hit his makes him pull away immediately._

“_Diane, please, just get back into bed. I’ll call the doctor, tell him what’s going on. You’re in a lot of pain.” _

_“Oh Kurt, come on. It’s not like I’ve never bled or had a cramp before. It’s normal, my body is changing because I’m having a baby. I get that you’re concerned but please, if I need you during the day I’ll give you a call.” _

_He isn’t satisfied, instead he almost feels annoyed. The imploring look in her azure irises doesn’t do much for him except keep him silent. _

_“I need to go.” She says again, stepping closer to kiss his cheek this time. _

Her hand goes to her bump, her palm cold on her warm skin and she knows if she just closes her eyes and digs down deep into her mind, into herself; she’ll be able to somehow — call it a mother’s instinct, be able to feel the baby, in some sort of way. A small trickle, maybe what she thinks is the tensing of a muscle. 

Kurt’s hand is warmer when it touches her belly and she moves her hand back a little to let him share the experience. His thumb grazes her skin back and forth along her naval, gliding over the small freckle at the side; the skin lifted just slightly at the site of the beauty mark. They’ve always been something he’s been attracted to; not in a physical way, but more of an emotional way. Almost like he would be sad if she decided someday to remove it; perhaps it’s because it’s a part of her and loving her, every bit of her, has become a very important part of him. And he doesn’t want to lose any piece of her, in any shape or form, be it a small freckle or anything else. 

A gentle knock and the low squeak of the doorknob grabs both of their attention and when the nurse steps in she’s welcomed by an impassive look and an inviting smile; the previous thoughts still lingering on their minds, but seeing their baby at the forefront now. The look Kurt provides doesn’t make the small brunette falter in anyway, clearly revealing her experience.

“Mr and Mrs. McVeigh. How are you?” She greets and upon closing the distance between her and the bed, Diane can see her name-tag attached to the right side of her uniform; the small white rectangle standing out against the dark navy on her shirt. 

“Excited.” Diane beams, first looking at Kurt and then the nurse, Charlotte, who’s fixing the computer monitor at her side. 

A short chuckle is hummed from the brunette as she reaches for the paper towel that she tucks in beneath Diane’s trouser waistband. 

“Is this your first baby?” She asks while clicking away at the monitor, but when she’s met with silence she looks towards the couple who are eyeing one another. 

“It is.” Diane looks at her again, another nod and smile of confirmation. 

In silence Kurt’s hand presses on hers to offer silent reassurance and in return she brushes her thumb across his fingers. 

“ _Now, what did you see when you entered the garage?” _

_Diane looks down to her notes, reading the statement as the witness repeats it to her partner; Stern, standing in front of the stand and eyeing the jurors reactions. Yet the voices trail off, her eyes closing again and her teeth clasping onto the pen in her hand as another cramp — stronger than any other she suffered in the last few hours, ruptures across her belly again. Her legs are weak, her whole body feeling... flimsy. It’s an unusual sensation and she doesn’t return to the present events until Stern sits next to her and calls on her. _

_“I need to ge_t _some air.” She tells him, gesturing to the bump hidden behind a burgundy blazer. _

_Aside from her and Kurt and their immediate families, Stern is the only other person who is aware of her pregnancy. He frowns, almost disapproving but she doesn’t care; just stands up and wobbles her way out of the room. _

_This time with her hand on her belly she walks to the bathroom around the corner and shuts herself into a small stall. She doesn’t know how long she’s been panting and fighting for air, the pain now excruciating as it springs across her belly like an electric shock. Her handbag hits the floor next to her feet as her fingers can no longer keep a strong enough grip on it._

_A whine escapes her and she doubles over, her hands clutching the underside of her bump. Burning up and sweating, she frantically tears her blazer off and throws it across the toilet, then resumes to lower herself to the floor; hoping to relieve herself of some pain. She doesn’t know what to do, panics for a moment when she re_alises _no one else is in the bathroom who may provide some bit of help. Then she grabs her bag and roots through it for her phone. _

_He was right. She should have stayed at home. _

_So, she dialled. _

“The first ones are always the most nerve-wrecking.” 

Diane chuckles and looks at Kurt, a small hum of agreement escaping her and Kurt’s lip twitches in stoic agreement. 

They’ve moved on, it’s still tender at times to think about, and their lost baby will always be in their minds despite the gift of love they’ve been granted. But they  have moved on, and  that’s what the important part is. That they can discuss this now, that they can talk about it without it devolving into tears or screaming or a complete shutdown. 

“That they are.” Kurt responds, eyeing Diane for a moment before their attention goes to Charlotte again.

_A frown sits on his face, dragging his lips down and creasing the skin around his mouth. There’s too much blood, his guts twists, and his concern sky-rockets again. _

_Sighing he pulls the bedsheet from the mattress and balls it up, intending to dump it when doing the laundry. _

_ But he doesn’t get to do the laundry, because when his phone rings and he hears her voice, he realises his gut has been right all along. _

“Are there any other children in the family you would be close with?” Charlotte asks casually as she finishes setting up the transducer. 

“There is, my godchild. She’s more like our niece.” 

“So you’re good with kids then, should be no panic.” 

“Well,” a low chuckle comes from her and she glances to Kurt. “I wouldn’t say good, I’d say I’m experienced.” 

“She’s great, ignore her.” Kurt interrupts Diane’s half-conscious musings and she rolls her eyes. 

_ “Diane?” An urgent call of her name. His voice. Relief.  _

_ “In here,” she murmurs, throwing the scanty roll of toilet tissue out beneath the door.  _

_It pushes open a second later, his head falling down _ _straight away to find her sitting on the ground; one leg out straight; the other bent with her thigh and knee pressing over the other. There’s blood on her knee and on her hand, a crimson colour that stands out brightly on her pale skin. _

“_Diane what—“ _

_ “I can’t stop bleeding Kurt,” she nearly sobs, her own fear and nervousness causing her voice to rattle. “It’s not right. It shouldn’t be like this.”  _

_He says nothing, her blue eyes are shiny and wet. He crouches, takes a quick look into the toilet; tissues stained with deep red glare back at him and for a moment he wonders if he might be sick. There is something  seriously wrong. _

“_I’m getting you to a hospital.” Kurt looks down at her and studies her for a moment, then slips an arm around her back and side. _

_A cry startles him and he withdraws, finding her eyes closed in pain. He apologises profoundly but she shakes her head and shushes him with a drained attempt at speaking. _

“_I’m calling an ambulance.” _

Diane moves the hand resting on her upper abdomen to the bedside to allow Charlotte to swipe the gel across her skin, the gooey condensed liquid cold and making her inhale sharply when it first touches her. Charlotte smiles knowingly in response, the almost embarrassed blush that creeps along Diane’s cheeks demanding no words be spoken. 

However when it comes to her husband the teasing doesn’t come to an end. 

“Cold?” Kurt asks rhetorically, the question making Diane’s eyes thin. 

She chooses to take the higher ground and look away, her eyes going to the nurse at her side when she hears a stifled chuckle and Diane shakes her head. 

“I’d like to see you trying out pregnancy.” Diane turns back to him, her eyebrow curved into a knowing fashion, her lips semi-twisted into a smirk. 

“Well,“ he sighs, shifting closer; his back slants as he leans forward. Diane immediately realises he’s choosing to respond genuinely, rather than respond to her tease. “If it was easy then men would be able to do it.” 

The kiss to her knuckles that follows his words makes her head tilt to the side and she wishes she didn’t have to pull her hand from his warm hold in order to trail her fingers through his hair in an appreciative, loving manner. 

The sharp clicking on the computer and the short squeak of stiffness as the screen is turned to face them doesn’t come to their attention right away, both knowing the images have yet to be taken. 

“How long are you two married?” Charlotte asks, finally moving the transducer device across the ever-growing bump. 

“Six years.” 

“Together for ten.” Kurt adds, making Diane smile in his direction before glancing to the staticky-looking screen.

“That’s wonderful.” 

“Mm.” Diane hums in agreement, eyes going to Kurt at her side again.

“Do you want to know some information about your baby or would you like to see them first?” Charlotte asks, looking to them both for an answer. 

Kurt watches Diane consider the question, then nods in agreement to her suggestion of hearing some information.

“I don’t know if you’ve been thinking of it this way and I don’t mean to shock you if not, but you’re now four months in. That means you’re nearly halfway through your pregnancy, there’s only five more months to go.” 

Diane blinks slowly, her gaze going to Kurt’s and both stare in silence. It’s clear neither have considered that just yet and each need their own moment to adjust to the knowledge. Inside Diane’s stomach trickles from bubbling excitement and nervousness. If she could she’d have told everyone how much she’s looking forward to meeting their baby and to finally being a mother. And yet at the very same time the mere thought that in five months she’s about to have an infant relying on her; someone so small that’s so special and so deeply connected to her, someone created by love and already so deeply treasured, will be sleeping securely in her arms... it makes her heart tremble within her chest.

“Your baby is now almost seventeen weeks developed, so they’re about five inches in length which is quite big. Also your baby’s nervous system is still developing and the muscles in their limbs can flex. They can make a fist and might even grab and pull their umbilical cord. They’re still too small and weak for any real pull, but once you reach the twenty-five week mark or there about, then you may feel a bit of tension or discomfort when they do pull on it.” 

Charlotte pauses and gives them time to absorb the information, then continues after a moment. 

“After this week, lying or exercising on your back can sometimes cause low blood pressure and dizziness. Try to avoid lying on your back for long periods of time. Do you do yoga or pilates?”

“Sometimes, usually at home.” 

“In that case if you want to keep up yoga I would suggest attending prenatal yoga. It would also be a great way to meet other mother-to-be’s and find out any information you need.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Diane nods, sharing a quick glance with Kurt. 

“Good. If the mother is healthy, then your baby will have no problems.” The words sting a little, Kurt can see the flinch on Diane’s face and just squeezes her hand. 

“_Kurt?”_

_ “Yeah?” He replies gently, his hand stroking her damp hair.  _

_ “I’m scared, Kurt. I’m so scared.”  _

“_The paramedics will be here soon, Di. Close your eyes, alright? They’ll be here in a minute and you’ll be okay.” _

_“What about the baby?”_

_Hesitation is in his voice this time, the concern he has for her fading out. “They’re going to be just fine.” _

“ And there, is your baby.” Charlotte smiles at them, surprising them both. 

“Oh my God. That’s...” Diane looks to the nurse, “that’s our baby?”

“Yeah it is.” She confirms, eliciting a laugh from the mother-to-be. 

“I’m going to give you two a moment alone. Listen out for a little drumming sound, it might be too soon just yet but if you hear it, I’ll tell you about it when you’re ready. I’ll wait outside.” 

Diane expresses her gratitude without taking her eyes from the screen. Neither notice the nurse’s absence, both too enthralled by the grey image on the monitor and Diane moves the transducer across her belly in subtle movements. 

“Look how beautiful... oh God, Kurt.” Diane gasps, only then realising his silence Diane looks over at him. 

The unshed tears in her eyes finally trickle down her cheeks when she sees him,  _her hero_, reduced to silent tears. His fingers are pressed against his mouth, his other still holding hers preciously. 

She doesn’t say anything, neither does he. They just share a look and at that, he stands up and curls his arms around her. The transducer is forgotten about for a moment so she can hold him, and let him hold her. She’s already emotional, but seeing her husband cry; well, there’s no holding her back now. The embrace lasts for a moment, their grasp on each other never ending even when they return their focus to the monitor and this time, he has the honour of swiping the transducer across her skin. 

“Can you hear that?” Diane asks, her head tilting off to the side, the words causing her husband to focus in on the sounds just as much as she is. 

He pauses, tense for a moment as he too listens. “The thumping sound?” 

“Mhm.” Diane nods, her finger pressing beneath her lip in thought. Then, a breathy smile shines on her lips again. “God Kurt, they’re so small.” 

They eye the monitor again, neither knowing what to truly say because there is so much they feel and so much they think; they cannot even put it into proper sentences that span longer than five words. 

A sudden rush of giddiness overcomes her and she holds back a little laugh when she looks over at him again. His eyebrow raises curiously in amusement at her sudden faint outburst. 

“We made that.”

“What?” 

“Kurt,” she whispers. “That’s...  _ours_ . We made that little—“ 

“Baby.” 

She stops and smiles at him. For once, she agrees with his pro-life beliefs. 

“_Baby_.” She repeats, voice soft as a feather. 

_He paces the waiting room, probably annoying a few other people from the frantic sound of his boots hitting the floor. But he doesn’t care. Right now all he wants is a doctor to come out of surgery, tell him his wife and child are okay and tell him something simple happened that resulted in a little blood flow. _

_ A little.  _

_ He scoffs — mentally.  _

_ Yeah, right. For a moment when he first saw her in the bathroom he thought she’d been injured some other way; that she was in the middle of her own crime scene.  _

_ Rubbing his hands over his face for the umpteenth time Kurt resists groaning and approaches the door again; glancing out at the nurse’s station and hallways where a few patients either walk about or are being wheeled around.  _

_ It’s been over two hours, where the hell is his wife?  _

_ “Kurt, please come sit down.” Gina calls gently, her voice not as comforting as it usually is in these situations.  _

_Although, it’s often been Diane to sit at his side; holding his hand between hers in her lap, resting her head on his shoulder and humming softly or murmuring loving memories to relax his mind. _

_He ignores his mother who looks at her own husband and frowns; about to say something else only for her eyes to shift to another figure standing in the door behind Kurt. _

“_Anything?” Lillian asks as she reclaims her seat beside Kurt’s empty one, a cellophane coffee cup in hand. _

_“You were gone for two minutes. What do you really think could have happened?” Gina points out, looking at the other woman with a ridiculing expression on her face. _

“_Nothing, Lillian.” Kurt amends and glares at his mother, who sits back into the chair and looks down at her hands. _

_“How long has it been?” Frank asks Gina, voice low but still loud enough in the small rectangular room. _

_“Nearly three hours.” _

_“I’m going to find a doctor. I don’t even know where my wife is, for all we know she could be at the opposite end of the hospital where they’re trying to find her family.” Kurt suddenly barks, turning on his heel with the intention of storming from the room, only for the glare of green scrubs to stun him into halting. _

“_Your wife is down the hall, Mr. McVeigh.” The young man assures, a clipboard in his hand. _

_There’s blood on his clothes, Kurt’s eyes fall to the individual splotches and stains and has to bite back the immediate demand to see her in order to know what has put her here in the first place. _

_“Can we see her?” Edward asks for him instead, ignoring Lillian when she slinks up to his side. _

“_One at a time, please. She’s still drowsy, so be quick and patient with her.” _

_ Everyone looks at each other for a moment,then focus on Kurt. They’re expecting him to be the first, obviously, but he shakes his head.  _

_“Edward, you go. I want to talk to the doctor before I see her.” Kurt explains, not giving anyone time to question or argue by walking away and gesturing for the doctor to follow suit. _

_Away from prying ears Kurt crosses his arms and looks at the blood stains again_. 

“_That blood is hers?” _

_“Uh yes.” _

_“What the hell happened to her?” Kurt meets the grey eyes staring at him, a look of sympathy in them that enrages him. _

“_Your wife has suffered a septic abortion, Mr. McVeigh.”_

_“A _what  _abortion?” _

“_Septic. The placenta was infected, started spreading sepsis through the blood. She’s lucky, in just a few days she could have been suffering renal failure, or even worse.” _

_“What has an abortion got to do with sepsis?” Kurt asks, after a silent moment to take in the information. _

“_Your wife miscarried. The infection had already spread too far into her placenta and the uterus, as a result her body aborted the fetus.” _

_He doesn’t react; not visibly. Doesn’t know how to. But inside, his heart is clenching so tight he worries he may have a heart attack. _

“_There was nothing you could have done?”_

_A shake of the doctors head. “She’d lost the baby before she even made it to the hospital.”_

_“We lost the baby.” _

“_What’s that?” _

_ “_We _ lost the baby. She’s not solely responsible.”  _

_ “Of course.” There’s a recognition of the apprehension in Kurt’s voice, the subject clearly, and expectedly, one of anger and grief.  _

“_Have you told her?” Kurt asks and rubs a hand over his face. _

_ “She’s still too disassociated to talk to. In a few hours we will.”  _

_ “I want to be there. If I can, I want to be the one to tell her.”  _

“_That can be done.” _

_“Good.” Kurt nods, the word shaky and revealing the raw emotion tearing through his every cell. _

_“Mr. McVeigh?”_

“_Yeah?” _

_ “Go be with your wife.” _

A gentle knock sounds on the wooden door, followed by the nurse peeping in the door again. As she arrives back at Diane’s side she shares a look between both parents and then offers to take the transducer from Kurt. 

“Did you hear anything?” She asks with a hint of a smile, shifting her gaze to them both.

“A little thumping sound.” Diane nods, looking to Kurt as if encouraging him to explain it better than she can. 

But as usual, she’s the one with the extravagant words. He nods in agreement and Charlotte glides the transducer down to the underside of the bump, her eyes on the monitor and following the shadow of the baby to give them the best view as well as getting as close to that thumping sound. 

“There it is again.” Diane points out, looking to Charlotte who hums. 

“That sound is your baby’s heartbeat.” 

“Hea... heartbeat?” She stutters, her voice weakening with emotion. 

“Your baby must really love you already, usually it takes either a lot more moving around to get them into a visible position and can take a few more weeks for the heartbeat to be audible. But your little guy seems to just want to be with you.” 

“Little guy?” Kurt points out, making Diane chuckle. 

“Hypothetically.” Charlotte smiles sympathetically. “It’s too soon to tell that just yet.” 

“Don’t listen to him, he’s already calling his bet that it’s a  _ she _ .” 

“And you, mom? Surely you have a feeling.” Charlotte looks at her, then removes the transducer from her skin and wipes it clean before placing it back on the tray beneath the monitor. 

“Right now, I’m trying to keep an open mind.” Diane admits, looking to Kurt who nods. 

“I’ve heard her bounce from male to female more times than I can count.”

“As long as you’re happy with what you have, that’s what matters.” 

“Well,” Diane smiles slightly, “somehow I come to love them more everyday. I think we’re just looking forward to meeting them, whatever they may be.”

_Lillian steps out of the room and closes the door behind her, a sullen look on her face. She doesn’t say anything except approaches her son-in-law who’s waiting impassively. _

_“She wants to see you.” She tells him before stepping to his side. _

_ “Is she  awake ?”  _

_Lillian looks at him and back to the closed door a few feet away. “She knows.” _

_Kurt bites his cheek and looks up at the white tiled ceiling, bracing himself, aching because of his wife’s pain. After a moment of just standing there and preparing himself for what he knows he can never be ready for, he walks to the door and steps through it. _

_She’s laying half on her side, half on her back; relieving the dull ache across her lower side. The medication will be wearing off soon and she knows from the past twelve hours that she’ll, without a doubt, ache all over; between the emotional and physical trauma. _

_“Hey,” she breathes in, the tears in her eyes making them turn a deeper shade of blue as she stares up at him in all her grogginess. The one word is full of pain, the syllable shaky and thick with yet unshed tears. _

_Diane shifts onto her back and edges up carefully to sit, with Kurt offering a hand that she takes shyly. _

“_Hey you.” He then returns softly and forgoes sitting in a chair and opts to sit on the space on the bed next to her. _

_She tries to smile, realises that he is here because he loves her despite what has happened, what she knows has happened. She can feel it, even in her own body. A bereft, empty, hollow feeling, like her torso is just an empty cavity. She can’t feel that much, physically. Emotionally it’s a raging storm. _

_She sobs suddenly, her head hanging and Kurt shifts closer to allow her to rest her head on his shoulder. His arms go around her slim body, fragile in the white, oversized gown. _

_“I’m sorry. I’m just so sorry.” She utters into his shoulder, her weak body jerking surprisingly strong in his arms. _

_“For?” He frowns, eyes closing as his chest hurts. _

_She sniffs, the words caught in her throat; tense and tight with tears and grief. It dawns on him that she thinks he doesn’t know, that she thinks he thinks their baby is..._ alive. 

“_I’m afraid if I tell you you’ll never want to see me again.” _

_ “I don’t think that’s possible.”  _

_ “I think it is.” _

_When she leans back to look up at him again he’s waiting for her, a look so adoring that she feels guilty just seeing it; feels undeserving. _

_“_It’s not_.” He reiterates again, the words stern and his eyes soft with a hardened edge to push the words through gently._

_She closes her lips and nods slightly, her eyes closing; she’s still exhausted and drowsy and the tears aren’t helping her fight the tiredn_ess _in any way. _

_ “Where are you hurting? Physically.” He asks against her temple when she leans close to him again, his arm around her shoulders and neck holding her into his side.  _

“_Um,” she swallows and needs to think for a moment, “my-my right side.”_

_He grunts, kisses her temple and draws back to mentally plan his next move. She looks up timidly, unsure of what he’s going to do. But she doesn’t ask, doesn’t protest, doesn’t mind when he slips into the bed next to her; shoes kicked off to hit the floor in two thuds. _

_Diane looks down at him; sitting on the bed at her side, back against the pillows where her head had been resting. _

“_Come here.” He encourages seeing her gaze and she lays down against him, her head on his shoulder as his arm curls around her shoulders. _

_He’s afraid of touching her anywhere below her shoulder blades, knowing after what she’s been through she’s going to be tender and sore for some time after it. _

“_Kurt,” she sighs against his shoulder, her voice so frail it terrifies him. “We need to talk.” _

_“We will. But we’ll sleep first, then we’ll talk. Fair?” He looks down to see her nod, tilts his head to see she’s closed her eyes; yet trails of tears still flow from beneath the closed lids. _

“_Di, darling,” he calls a moment after, earning a hoarse hum from her. “I love you.” _

_“Oh God, Kurt.” She gasps and shakes her head, ignores the tinge of pain that shoots into her back when she sits up. _

_“Diane–_“

“_Kurt I lost the baby. I-I... I didn’t—if I had just listened to you I could have stopped it but I didn’t—I went to _ _ work . I should have gone to the doctor’s but instead...”  _

_Her utterance is silenced when he sits up, pulls her to him softly and lays them down again. Th_is _time her sobs and tears echo around the room._

“I can’t wait to show Regina these.” Diane says dreamily as she looks down at the scan photographs. 

Kurt closes the front door behind him, smirking at his wife’s bubbly excitement as she turns in the hall and beams at him. 

“Can we put one on the fridge? Is that ridiculous?” She asks, then looks down at the small images again. 

Kurt snorts at that but doesn’t respond and instead, waits until she sighs happily and places the pictures into her bag hanging from her elbow. 

“What’s wrong?” She asks when she catches his gaze, both of them rooted in place in the hall of their home. 

She lowers her bag to the floor, her arms then bending up so she can begin to remove her jacket when he ambles towards her. Her blue eyes pace his face with mild concern until they flicker shut; his lips touching hers with such a delicate ferocity. She moans into the kiss, her hands moving to grab onto his jacket rather than her own and he walks her back to the wall; still keeping his lips on hers. 

Diane melts into him, her body growing weaker with every touch of his lips on hers as he presses his body into hers and keeps her between him and the cool wall. Her hands move from his chest to his neck and cheek then down to his hips, while his remain solely on her sides. 

When he breaks the kiss— as if he’s just gotten a quick fix of his favourite drug, he rests his face against the crook of her neck and, then, simply holds her; breathes her in, letting her intoxicate him.

“Putting a photograph of our kid on our fridge is not ridiculous.” 

She chuckles at that, the graze of her chin on his cheek prompting him to look at her. “I knew you’d get it.” 

He smirks back, stands up straight again and reaches down for her hand on his hip; their fingers being strung together. 

“Come on, let’s go put that photo up.” 

Grinning, she lets him pull her along with him. 


	18. 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my beta for her constant support. I can’t count how many times I rewrote this chapter and made changes to it, I don’t know how she deals with me at times! 
> 
> T/W: two flashbacks dealing with the aftermath of miscarriage and loss. If anyone finds this topic sensitive please skip the italics. Thank you! 
> 
> Personally I (and my beta) think there’s a lot going on in this chapter. The purpose of that is to link in the past with the present. Hopefully, those who read it will enjoy it.

“It’s cold tonight.” Diane breathes into the night air, her eyes navy like the dark sky above. 

Kurt follows her gaze and looks up to see what she sees, then looks over at his wife before slinging an arm around her shoulders and holding her into his side. 

She looks over at him, her eyes wandering down to his chin and up to his hair and finally settle on his eyes; waiting for hers to meet them.

“You want my jacket?” He offers, partially teasing her. 

“The door is right there.” She scoffs, rolling her eyes to reciprocate the foolish tease. 

He grins at her, makes his way ahead of her by a few steps to have the door unlocked and open so she can step in effortlessly rather than wait in the cold. While the days are beginning to get warmer, the nights still have yet to catch up and it doesn’t help her case when she’s wearing dresses. 

Kurt closes and locks the front door, turning just to catch sight of Diane stepping into their bedroom. 

He follows behind her, entering the room to find Diane on her side of the bed and shrugging her cardigan off. He stops and stares, unintentionally yet some part of his brain is aware of it, as she reaches up to unsnap the chunky gold necklace hanging from her neck. Her eyes are closed; dusted with glittery eyeshadow matching the golden tone of her necklace and the colour of her nails. It’s rare to see them any other colour than red or silver, but they’re still nice and well tended to. He’s been driven insane many times by the sound of her filing her nails, or watching her paying her utmost attention to them as she painted them if she couldn’t make it to a nail salon.

“Hey,” she calls softly, the sound making him blink and return to the present.

“Yeah?” He takes a step closer to the bed, using the moment to shrug his coat off too. 

“Can you unzip my dress?” She asks with a little sheepish smirk on her lips. 

He returns the smile and nods, tosses his coat to the chair at the end of their bed before rounding it to her. She turns around, resulting in them facing the mirror. She watches him as he grips the small black zipper in his large fingers and drags it down her back. She realises he doesn’t know he can be seen in the mirror, which she takes pleasure in that she can now see how exactly he looks whenever he’s asked to help out with this little problem of hers. Pregnant or not, sometimes she’s found it difficult to reach back and pull the zipper down; usually a tighter fabric meant restricted movement and he’s always been happy to help. His eyes trail down her back and up again to move across her upper back to her shoulder blades; small little goosebumps canvassing her skin unapologetically. 

Her teeth sink into her lower lip as she watches him, blue eyes lined with black pencil to make them deeper, like endless oceans, able to swallow one up and drown them in a blink. He looks up when she doesn’t shrug out of the fabric and catches her gazes in the mirror, a scoff mingled one-beat laugh escaping him when he realises she’s been watching all along. He’s not embarrassed, in fact, he opts to step closer and press a soft kiss to her neck, the gold metal of her hoop earring cold against his nose. His hands slide from her hips to her bump, his thumbs touching at the tips. 

“Look at you. This baby already has you wrapped around their finger.” She tells him, no longer wanting to look at him through a mirror, but directly at him. 

He knows this, has known it since she first told him she was pregnant. She brings a hand up to his cheek and caresses it softly, uses it to move his cheek closer so she can press a kiss to it. 

“Yeah, and their mother is the exact same.” He finally answers, making her smile and he kisses her quickly; too quick she can’t even purse her lips to return it. "You're cold. How about a warm bath to heat you up?" 

" _ Diane, you've got to stay clean. The doc emphasised hygiene for a reason."  _

_ "I'm tired Kurt." She sighs in a low voice, no vigor or power in the sound.  _

_It terrifies him despite how understandable it is, that she’s so out of touch with herself. Her fight, her spirit, her flare, is all gone. Temporarily — he reminds himself, knowing she needs time to recover; physically, mentally and emotionally. But it still makes him ache seeing her like this; completely careless and distant, feeling like she’s undeserving for something she couldn’t change, for something that’s not her fault._

_"Diane,” he whispers as he sits down next to her hip, hidden under the bed covers and a heavy throw, as if the more layers she covers herself with the further away from the world she’ll be. “You’ll get sick if you don’t stay clean.”_

_Kurt drops his head when he gets no reaction, her eyes don’t even open. It’s only been two days since she’s been released from the hospital and he’s almost ready to give up and let her rest for one more day before insisting on a bath. But his concern is too strong, he doesn’t want her to get any sicker than she already is. _

“_I know you’re tired and you’re sore, but I'll help you. We don’t have to wash your hair, just your body." He tries again and looks over at her; clasps her hand in his, laying lifelessly on the pillow by her head. "Do it for me, please?"_

_Her eyes open slowly and she looks over at him, tired blue eyes that are painfully hollow. She nods in one, slow movement and uses his grip to sit up; the lack of food she's been eating lately making her weaker and the quick movement causing her head to spin. She groans in discomfort and winces, shakes it off with a shake of her head before slipping out from the bed and following Kurt into the bathroom. She waits on the toilet as he runs the bath, with Kurt ensuring to use her favourite soaps and formulas. When it's warm enough and he's sure she'll be relaxed getting into it, he turns to look at her and offers a hand. But she ignores him, just turns away and stands up to undress; hiding herself from him._

_It hurts him more than he cares to admit, seeing her so shattered, not even happy with her own image anymore. Her confidence is something he’s always loved about her, it was something he was most attracted to when they first met. Seeing her without it, without her own value and self-worth, pains him physically. It makes him want to grab her and shake some sense into her, to make her see how, yes, she has changed, but not in the way she thinks. She's changed, and while she's recovering, this change is one for the better; a way to make her stronger than she already is. That while it may seem that way, in time it will prove that it’s_ _just another obstacle in life to strengthen her. That also hurts him, that she can't see that. _

_He makes sure not to survey her body the moment she turns around; her arms curled carefully around her abdomen._ _The bubbles play a large part of maintaining the slight piece of self-confidence she has left when it comes to her image, otherwise Kurt wouldn't have bothered with them. But he wants her to feel secure around him, to realise he's still her husband, to know he still loves her; more now than he ever has._

_"Okay. Lay back. It won't take a minute."_

_She lays back, the bubbles rustling as she settles in. Kurt reaches for a clean cloth and dips it into the water before squeezing some shower gel onto it and sudding it up; his palm opens beneath the cloth and he monitors her reaction when he touches her first, on the shoulder above her heart and sliding his clothed hand down her arm. She almost seems like she's asleep; barely blinks, for a moment he wonders if she's breathing. He perseveres, makes sure to wash every inch of her legs._

_A low gasp comes from her when she feels his hand move from her hip towards her stomach and she catches his hand beneath the cooling water just before it touches her belly, the cloth grazing her skin below her naval. _

_"I can do that." _

"_It's okay, I got it."_

_ "No. I  _ need _ to do it.” _

_  
_“_Okay.” He agrees softly, placing the sopping cloth into her palm. “I’ll get some towels. Or would you like to stay there for a little while, it might help your body release some tension._

_ She seems to be oblivious to his question, her eyes on the cloth in both her hands. Blue eventually go to his brown and she swallows; the lump in her throat being pushed down. _

“_Can you get the towels?” _

_He purses his lips, not exactly satisfied with the answer but not wanting to force her to do anymore than she already is. He nods his head and turns to leave the bathroom. Alone, Diane looks down at the bubbles hiding her body, unsure if she’s relieved or not, but still lowers the cloth under the water and brushes it across her skin. She knows it’s her body, whose else could it be? And yet, she feels_ _like she’s not even in her body anymore, like she’s enduring an outer body experience. _

_She lets go of the cloth, lets it float away through the streams of bubbles on its own voyage and with her hands pressing to her belly — no longer supporting life — it doesn’t take much longer for her eyes to start shedding un-fallen tears_. 

She smiles with appreciation but the suggestion is the last thing she wants right now. The sooner she can get wrapped up in his arms beneath the covers of their bed, the warmer she'll be and she won't need anything else. Not needing her to answer, Kurt just kisses her cheek and lets her go to step away to the dresser behind them. Opening the third drawer he looks over at her briefly as she pulls her dress from her shoulders and down her arms. 

“Which one would you find comfiest?” He asks when he resumes surveying the various types, colours and fabrics of pyjamas in the drawer. 

He's come to notice she's wearing the slim-fit satin sets less now as her bump grows, so the flimsy, softer ones have become more frequent.

“Uh,” she steps out of her heels, dropping three inches shorter than she’s been all evening and creeping over to him, her dress still covering her body from above her bump to her knees. “The pink one, it’s stretchy and soft.” 

“Are you going to work tomorrow?” Kurt asks as he grabs the pyjamas and closes the drawer. 

“No, well, maybe I’ll do a bit from home. Just get it out of the way and have a clear weekend. Why?” Diane asks and finishes pushing the dress down her body to step out of it. 

“Well, the baby isn’t going to get any smaller. What if we went shopping, you could grab a few pyjamas and we could start shopping for the baby. Grab a few things like bottles, diapers.” 

He speaks as he bends down to pick up her dress and heels and throw them onto the bed, then helps her into her trousers as she puts on her top. 

“That sounds like a wonderful idea.” She confirms, looping her linked arms around his neck as he stands, and she presses a lingering kiss to his lips. 

The kiss would have lasted longer only for the fact she’s still becoming accustomed to the stubble growing across his chin and cheeks. Then she turns her head away, her hand drawing back to cover her mouth when she yawns and Kurt cocks his head to the bed. 

“Go to bed. I’m going to take a shower.”

“Now?” 

“Yeah. I won’t make much noise if you’re going to sleep.” 

“No, I’ll read for a bit. Better get started on that birth book your mother gave me.” She drawls monotonously and steps away from him to get her bag on the chair at the end of the bed. 

“That’s what she gave you?” Kurt asks in surprise and watches his wife open up a small paper bag to reveal the small yet chunky book. 

“Yeah.” Diane snickers and looks at the book then tosses it onto the bed. “We’re meeting for lunch in a few days. She wants to tell me a bit about her experiences.” 

“You’re going to lunch to discuss my birth with my mother?” 

“Yeah.” Diane nods, her eyes wide. A chuckle bursts through her lips at that and her eyes light up when she sees Kurt’s own grin of amusement. “The only downside is there’s no alcohol.”

“Not so much a downside on my part.” 

“There’s still time.” Diane threatens with a shrug of her shoulder, the words hollow with intent. 

He stands there in awe for a moment, caught off guard by her again. A common occurrence. 

“I’m taking a shower.” Kurt finally answers and walks past her, bumping his shoulder against hers as gently as he can and earning a smile from her as he walks to the en-suite. 

The sound of water hitting the shower floor is loud until he closes the door; dulling the sound to a faint splatter. Diane slips her earrings out and places them on her vanity table as she eases into the chair and goes about removing her makeup; humming the occasional line or two as she does to pass the time, before a fluffy inhuman figure comes into sight in the mirror and catches her eye. Turning around, she watches the small house pet turn in circles a few times before flopping down on the end of Kurt’s side of the bed; brown eyes glaring in her direction. 

“Hey you.” Diane greets softly when getting into bed; the small dog instantly approaching her for some affection. 

Once again flopping down this time Justice rests as close to Diane as possible, her small body pressing to her leg. 

Settled in, with her book in hand and finally comfortable and warm, the sleepy puppy breath coming from the terrier next to her and the sounds of the shower drift away as she becomes drawn into her new book. 

_ The house is dead silent and for a moment Kurt thinks it’s empty; a good sign. But then it catches his eye, the black leather handbag on the hall table, untouched since he left it there this morning. She was supposed to meet with Gina, just to get out of the house, to get some air, be around someone female to talk, to relate to, to feel confident if she wanted to share. _

_ He makes a mental note to call his mother and find out what happened, but for now he hangs up his coat in the hall and walks to their bedroom. Pushing the door open Kurt stops, a frown pulling his lips down.  _

_ She’s still there laying in bed. By the looks of it she hasn’t been out of it yet, despite her promise. Closing his eyes Kurt presses his head to the door and breathes in, trying to swallow back his anger. He can’t be angry with her, despite her promise, despite her reassurances, he knows this is a day-by-day recovery. He was hoping that she was recovering, but it seems like she’s going backwards and shutting him out more and more.  _

_“Diane.” He announces his presence with a call of her name, making his steps loud as he approaches the bed. “Hey,” _

_She groans, shaking her head and attempts to roll over and face away from him but a steady hand on her shoulder stops her. _

_“Diane, you promised. You promised me you would get out of bed today.” _

“_I’m just sleepy, Kurt.” She tries to argue, but as usual lately her voice is weak and thin. _

_“Diane you know what your doctor said. You’re going to be sore for a few days after it but curling into a ball and staying rigid is only going to make it worse.” _

_She just hums, trying to be polite but also contain the emotion within her. She doesn’t want to let him down, but he really has no idea what it feels like. How could he? _

_“Kurt, just leave me be.” She shrugs his hand off her shoulder but he’s persistent, doesn’t back off so easily this time. _

_“No, Diane. This is serious. I know you don’t want to hear this, but you need to get out of bed, have something to eat, _ _try to get back into a normal routine.” _

_ “You don’t get it!” She suddenly utters out, her voice the loudest it’s been in a week. “I lost the baby, one week ago exactly.”  _

_“I know.” He sighs, head hanging. _

_“And I just – I...” She starts to choke on her words, her eyes clouding with tears and before Kurt realises it tears are streaming down her cheeks. _

“_Hey, hey, come here.” He shifts closer, curls an arm around her shoulders and holds her to his chest. _

_He can feel her shudder against him, her tears wetting his shirt as she sobs loudly against him; her hands holding onto him tightly, almost begging him not to leave her, not now. _

  
A small gasp of delight escapes the blonde mother-to-be when she hears the water fade into silence and knows he’s finished showering. Uncrossing her legs she swings them out of the bed and skitters around it to the bathroom, knocking hastily before stepping into the room. 

She flashes Kurt a knowing smile before disappearing into the even smaller stall; the bathroom. She’s never had bladder issues before, but ever since a tiny human started to grow and press against it she’s been spending most of her time in bathrooms. 

“Wipe that smirk off your face.” She calls out, nearly holding her breath so she can hear what he says, if he says anything at all. 

“I’m not smirking.” He calls back, shaking his head in amusement as he begins to lather up some shaving foam in a small bowl. 

Without making a sound Diane pushes the small door open and leans against the threshold, her eyes on his reflection in the condensed mirror; fading now and revealing half of his face and chest. 

“Not smirking, huh?” She speaks with a raise of her eyebrow, making Kurt stop what he’s doing and look in her direction. 

When he’s about to speak she flushes the toilet; smiles triumphantly as she makes her way to the sink to clean her hands. Turning the faucet she jumps back when water gushes from the sink and splatters up at them; a gasp escapes her and she steps back until Kurt turns off the water again. Hands out to her sides Diane looks down at her wet top and sighs, then suddenly a hand darts out to slap Kurt’s arm when he just smirks and shakes his head. 

“Can I have your shirt?” She asks as she begins unbuttoning the pink cotton. 

He bends and grabs the checkered shirt to hand it to her and in return tosses her top onto his pile of clothes by the bath. After she shrugs it on and buttons it Kurt moves aside to give her room to set about washing her hands again, much more careful this time when she turns on the water. 

“How’s the book?” He asks with a quick glance at her.

She puffs out a breath. “Interesting.” 

The word has his attention drifting to her again and he watches as she turns the faucet off. “Detailed?” 

Shaking her hands she gives him a quick look and grabs the towel. “Very.” 

“Hey, ah,” he stops and places the bowl down, faces her with a wary look on his face, “that book, Mama didn’t cause any problem with Lillian did she?” 

Breathing in, she’s almost truthful. But she opts to smile instead and hang the towel back on the rack. 

“No of course not. Why would you think that?” Her tone is slightly higher, a result of her trying to keep in the honest truth. Of course,  of course , it bothered her mother. 

“The look she gave you two as you talked about the baby tonight, for starters. Then the whole,” he shrugs, “lecture on pregnancy. Why didn’t she tell you all that before?” 

Diane blinks slowly, her lips curled up a little. “She got to you.” 

“No–“

“Yes. Admit it.” 

He stares at her for a moment and then puffs out a breath. “Tonight she did.” 

Diane watches as Kurt rubs a hand over his face; dragging his mouth down and then moving it to the back of his head. 

“Hey, it’s okay if she gets to you once in a while. Shows you’re human.” 

“What if it’s been longer than that?” 

Diane pouts in confusion. “What do you mean?” 

“Di, the woman hasn’t treated you like her daughter in years. How is she supposed to treat the baby inside of you like a human when she can’t even treat her own child like one?” 

“Kurt, not now.” Diane sighs and places her hands on her hips, unintentionally putting on a defensive front. Intending to avoid him she walks towards the bathroom door. 

“Then when Diane? She can’t just treat you like dirt and get away with it or pretend to care because someone else genuinely does.” 

“She’s not well, Kurt! Besides, she’s  _ my _ mother, not yours!” Diane barks at him, her blue eyes suddenly hard and distant when she turns around. 

“Don’t make excuses for her Diane, if she was really that sick the last thing you’d do is argue with her.” Kurt crosses his arms and sighs when she just ignores him again, disappears completely from his view.

She walks to the end corner of her side of the bed and stops, her eyes going to the dog laying in the same spot but watching her every move. She only walked out because she doesn’t know what to say, not to mention her own  _ disgust _ that she defended her mother. Diane scoffs and glances up at the ceiling to keep the tears at bay —  _ it’s just hormones _ , she reminds herself; hoping that’s all it is. She’s managed to tuck away the pain created by her mother and keep it locked up for so long, she can’t deal with him unravelling all that, not now,  _dear god_ _not now_ , for the baby’s sake.

Not wanting to let this go on longer than it has to be, and also not wanting her mother to come between them, Diane returns to the bathroom; hands crossed over her chest and above her bump; head hanging. 

“You don’t get it, Kurt.” Diane rasps in time, not daring to look up at him. 

The shaky breath she breathes in makes him realise she’s on the edge of crying and Kurt stops brushing on his shaving foam so he can turn and face her. 

“Then tell me so I do get it.” He implores, shifting his weight and causing his blurred image to move within the corners of her eyes. 

“Maybe she’s not the best mother, maybe she’s not the kindest human. But she’s been through hell and Kurt, if it weren’t for her I wouldn’t be here. We wouldn’t be standing here, and this baby wouldn’t be on the way.” 

He sighs deep in his throat, jaw rolling as he gulps. She’s right, he knows. He just wishes he could see it the same way, but it’s difficult when he didn’t see the way the woman behaved when his wife was a child, only how she is now. 

“Whether you want me to or not, and I know you want me to despite what she says or does, I’ll always love her.” 

Seconds pass and she gets no answer so she looks up to find him eyeing his ring. It’s a habitual tick, though it’s one she wishes he’d grow out of. It reminds her of a more painful time, where arguing was all they ever did. Love was buried, incapable of being shared and anger prevailed. 

“I get it.” He nods, meets her eyes briefly and turns around; picks up his razor and focuses on his reflection in the mirror.

Diane closes her eyes and sighs silently, then opens them only to lose focus on her hurt feelings. Eyes zoned in, her feelings becoming the least of her concerns. 

“What are you doing?” Diane asks slowly, the pace of her thoughts slowing down the speed of her speech. 

Kurt looks over at her and eyes her as if the answer is the most obvious in the world and technically, it is. 

“Shaving.” 

“Don’t, please.” She begs, approaching him quickly to reach for the razor hovering by his cheek. 

“Diane–“ he utters in a questioning voice, his eyes glued to hers as he steps back and makes room for her to step in front of him; effectively blocking his view of the mirror. 

“I like it.” She admits shyly, peering up at him. 

“You do, huh?” A small, sly smirk begins to shape his lips. 

“I do.” She nods once and as deft fingers grasp his wrist she lowers his arm. 

Her fingers slip the razor from his hand and place it on the counter, then link with his fingers at his side. With her other hand she drags a finger from his cheek bone to his chin, leaving a distinct trail in the shaving foam. The stubble beneath her skin still feels unusual, but the new look her husband sports brings out something in her; a new attraction.

He watches as her eyes follow her finger and he lets her lose herself for a moment, before breathing out heavily. His warm breath on her hand immediately brings her eyes to his and retracting her hand, her lips twitch in a smile.

His arm reaches out in a fast move to wrap around her back and his head dips in time to press his lips to hers. A low whimper is muffled against his mouth as hers moves against his; reacquainting with his lips again, re-exploring old caverns, relishing in each other’s familiar taste, kissing away the unintentional harm their words caused. 

As Kurt moves his hand from hers to slide it into her hair he moves his lips to her cheek and down to her neck, causing her hands to reach up and grab his arms. With a shriek she attempts to lamely push him away to stop him from wiping foam across her face.

A low chuckle comes from him and she shoves him gently. With a roll of her eyes at his quiet laughter she presses her hand to the back of his head and pulls him in for another kiss; albeit a brief one. His hand behind her comes to press against her bump and the very feeling of his hand on their unborn child sends a wave of adoration through her.

Parting from him she presses her forehead to his chin. The joy and relief that he is home, no longer at the call of his former job, is still something she’s grateful for.

His brown eyes twinkle and the gaze curves her lips up again. 

“I wouldn’t miss this.” He assures. 

His hand shifts to press firmly against her and she looks down; intently watching his hand move lovingly across her bump. They both know the harsh possibility that he may not have been so lucky to make the accommodating changes in his life to be here, to share this experience with her. But he did, he is here and that’s all that matters. 

“God you’re going to be a wonderful father.” 

He bobs his head a little and bounces his eyebrows, giving her a silent  maybe . Her hand squeezes his arm in protest to his response. However the suddenly sullen look on his glowing face reduces her smile into blankness and a wave of uncertainty floods her.

“Diane, when I said  _I get it_ , I meant it. I do.” Kurt’s voice breezes over her head and she blinks out of her worried daze. 

“I know.” She reassures with a docile smile, her blue eyes speaking louder than her voice. “I get it too, how you feel.” 

She drops her head, clears her throat softly in preparation for what she’s about to say; knows it may be a sensitive issue for him, though she truly hopes not. 

“Di?” He says her name so lowly his voice is husky, deep like gravel. 

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about the baby.” She begins slowly, her eyes eventually finding their way back to his.

“Oh?” He responds immediately, an eyebrow arching with interest. 

“Yeah, um,” she pauses and inhales deeply. “I... I want to breastfeed the baby, are you,” she breathes out and a hum from the muffled sound of failed words echoes behind her teeth, “are you okay with that?” 

He doesn’t respond verbally but opts to bring her hand to his lips and press them to her fingers. “I’m more than okay with that.” He reassures, his response easily breaking the tense look on her face and dissolving it into a softer one. 

“I just didn’t want my mother’s questions catching you off guard.” 

“Hey, this is our baby, not hers. She’s not taking any notice of what she already has and until she can do that then she can forget about telling you how to raise our child.” 

Diane nods, not arguing with his words. Both know she agrees, whole heartedly. 

“So, we’re good?” He asks after a moment, brown eyes locked on hers with an unbreakable gaze.

She smiles, her shoulders relaxing from the subconscious tension riddling them. “Always.” 

Seeing that the look on her face, similar to that of an excited dog, doesn’t waver, Kurt tilts his head to press a kiss to her lips, her sudden parting before it barely even starts intriguing him. 

“What?” 

“Will you keep it?” She asks timidly. 

“Keep it?” 

“Your beard.” She sighs upon realising her meekness isn’t getting her anywhere. 

Kurt breathes out reluctantly and moves his head to see his own reflection, then shifts his eyes to her hopeful set. How, oh how, can he say no? Nodding the affirmative Diane bites her lip and semi-turns from him to reach over and grab the towel near his razor. 

She dips it into the warm water inside the sink, ensuring she’s more careful this time. Wrapping the damp towel around her fingers, Diane looks at his face and begins to brush the towel down his cheek; starting at the bone, dragging down to his chin, then washing the cloth clean and repeats the motions as many times as she needs. 

She can feel his gaze but opts to avoid it for intentional purposes, knowing if she looks at him now she’ll kiss him and probably won’t stop. She cleans the cloth again and squeezes out any extra water; the water in the sink murky with small traces of white floating in the bobbing liquid. Changing the angle of her hand, she begins to drag the cloth up his neck to clean the remainder of the foam and when finished she cleans her own neck. 

”There, done.” She announces proudly and places the cloth into the sink. 

Diane steps around him so he can see his appearance in the mirror, the still growing beard revealed in all its glory. 

“I look old.” 

“You look sexy.” 

He eyes her sceptically but she just nods, then sets about cleaning the countertop. 

“Let me do that. You got out of bed forty minutes ago to pee and you’re still here. If you stay any longer you’ll need to go again before you get back to bed.” 

She chuckles and steps away from the messy counter, her hands raised in submission. Usually she would find some sort of remark to make but instead she stays silent, pats his bare chest with her palm and walks out of the bathroom; this time much more content than the last exit. 

When Kurt emerges from the bathroom with the bundle of clothes in hand to discard into the laundry basket he finds Diane laying in bed; she rests on her side, the book in the shape of an L as she reads the page pressed to her leg, her other arm beneath her head, and Justice is curled up into a ball at the back of her thighs. He doesn’t want to get into bed, would rather stand and wait until she puts away her book so he doesn’t disturb her. But doing so would be ridiculous, so he throws the clothes into the wicker basket near their wardrobe and slides into bed within seconds. 

His hand slides around her calf beneath the crease behind her knee once he’s settled in and he relaxes beside her, his eyes gradually closing. The sound of her soft breathing and the turn of a page are like choruses in a lullaby; until a little hum disrupts the pattern and Kurt opens an eye to look at her. 

“Something interesting?” He asks with muffled words, his cheek being pulled down against the pillow. 

She turns the book and points to a paragraph. “Read.” 

Kurt eyes her, harrumphs and then takes the book. It’s small print and the dim light of the lamp on her dresser makes it difficult to read. It still only takes him a few minutes to read the page. 

“That’s uh, it’s...” 

“Brutal?” She smiles at him, the word just a tease. 

“That’s how some might see it.” 

“But not you?” She follows his line of thought, the ability making him smile for that reason alone. She always knew how to do that. 

He shakes his head and offers the book back to her. A way to prolong her curiosity, while also articulating his own careful way to answer. 

“Not me.” 

“Then tell me, how do you see birth?” She asks, no longer interested in her book so she closes it. 

The look on her face is enough to tell him she’s waiting, almost like a snake. One wrong word and this could all end up in very dangerous territory. Still, a smile remains on her face, coaxing that answer from him. 

He inhales, showing her how he’s composing his answer. In many ways it amuses her. 

“Bloody. Painful. Yet one of the most amazing experiences.” 

There’s a slight twang to his southern drawl, making his words a little husky. Her eyes fall to his lips at the sounds, her body stuck and she’s unsure whether she wants to kiss him for it or for what he’s actually said, for the way his mind works. 

She smiles at him again, this time a gentle, loving little beam. He’s not confused, he knows he’s said the right thing. Hence the reason he doesn’t question her gaze, just reaches for her hand and brings it to his lips for a lingering kiss. 

“You know I’m going to be there for you, don’t you?” He asks when he lowers her hand form his mouth. Brief confusion crosses her face and before she can question him, he continues. “During the birth, I’ll be right there with you.” 

A small chuckle comes from her, the sound lowering when she turns away to put the book on her nightstand and then turns back to see his brown eyes waiting. 

“Kurt,” she sighs appreciatively, “birth is a big thing. You even said it yourself, it’s bloody. Most men need to leave the room or even faint at the sight of it.” 

Silence lingers between them as he thinks. “Yeah but, I’m not most men.” 

“No, you’re certainly not.” She lifts her hand back to switch off her lamp and shifts closer to him, her leg moving between his.

Head resting on his chest she finds herself slipping into a calmer mind space; anxious, concerning thoughts about the baby, as well as the stress of work, and the problems with her family, all drift away. She seems to float. Float, in their bubble and pay no heed to the world outside it. 

It’s usually in this time she reviews her day; the trials and tribulations she endured, the good moments, the bad moments, analyses what needs her immediate attention and what can be put on the sidelines for a while. But instead she finds herself losing touch with consciousness. Their breathing synchronises, the only breath out of harmony is the shallower, shorter puffs from the inhuman occupant of their bed; sleeping happily at the end of her corner. 

But then lips press to her forehead, his arm tenses around her and she can distantly feel his head move; as if he’s looking down at her. Perhaps she’s dreaming, already asleep, but the twitch she feels herself make with her mouth and the low sniff confirms she’s still awake. She’s about to move, believing Kurt is just in an uncomfortable position. Yet his voice make her attention emerge from her thoughts to focus on his words, which cause great confusion and she squints. 

“What?” She rasps, her eyes remaining closed. 

“What’s wrong?” He repeats, voice a little louder this time. 

Diane lifts her head from his chest to squint at him in the dark, completely thrown by what he’s asked. “Nothing, I was falling asleep.” 

“Diane, I can feel the tears.” Kurt murmurs, his chin pressed to his chest. 

“What,” she scoffs a small, tired laugh, “Kurt I’m not crying.” 

He doesn’t laugh, doesn’t find it amusing at all. He could have sworn he felt teardrops. Not saying anything he just reaches over to his bedside table and turns on his lamp. Diane grimaces with the sudden flash of light and closes her eyes. 

“Kurt...” she sighs in annoyance. 

“You’re bleeding – your nose, it’s–“ he doesn’t finish, being too preoccupied with what he sees. 

She presses her fingertips to her philtrum, then looks down at the red stained digits. She blinks in surprise, a small gasp coming from her. 

“Pinch the bridge of your nose and tilt your head back.” He advises, fixes her finger placement to a lower spot when she’s holding them too far up and tilts her head back with his index finger beneath her chin. “I’ll get some tissues.” 

“Mhmm.” Diane hums, focusing on the ceiling.

He re-emerges from the bathroom and sits next to her. Eyeing the bright red on her pale skin, he places the tissue down next to his knee. 

“Here.” Kurt dabs beneath her nose with damp tissue, wiping away the dried blood there. “Are you okay?” 

“Fine.” She grunts, swallowing loudly. 

He stops and looks at her, causing her to tilt her head down to see his eyes and confirm her word with her eyes. However he stops her with a slight exclaim and eases her head back. 

“Sorry.” She whispers, her eyes tracing the ceiling again. 

“Are you okay?” He repeats, brushing the backs of his fingers across her jaw. 

“I am. This is normal. It’s–“ 

“Tension in the nasal cavity, I know.” 

She smiles, tries to look at him but he hums in protest of any such movement. “How do you know that?” 

“Been doing some reading.” 

“Of course you have.”

“You sound surprised.” 

“No, I just didn’t expect you to start so soon.” 

He smirks at that, realising she’s teasing him. He places his hand around her shoulder and pulls her forward slightly so she’s leaning forward. 

“Keep your head back but lean forward.” He moves the tissue from her nose and examines it, judging the severity of the nosebleed by the blood on it. “I’ll pick up a humidifier in the drugstore tomorrow.” 

“Thank you.” She swallows, the movement of her throat breaking her words. 

They stay there for a few more minutes, neither talking.

“Is it over yet?” She asks, her patience gradually diminishing. “If I stay here any longer I’ll be pushing this baby out.”

He shakes his head in amusement and lowers the tissue from her skin, then inclines her head forward. No more blood flow, Kurt picks up her hand to clean it. 

“There’s a little bit...” Diane gestures to his chest, a small splotch of dried red there. That’s what he felt, they’re the _teardrops_ he could feel. 

He follows her gaze and wipes away the glaring stain, glances at her to confirm she’s all good and returns to the bathroom to dump the tissue and clean his hands. She’s laying down again when he gets back to bed, her hand immediately reaching for his under the blankets when he lays next to her again. 

“Thank you.” She murmurs softly, sleep creeping into her voice. 

“We’re definitely sleeping in until nine tomorrow.” Kurt sighs, resting her palm on his chest with his hand on top of his. 

A low chuckle comes from her and she pats his chest with her fingers. “It’s been quite a night.”

“We’re just lucky that didn’t happen during dinner.” 

She groans into her pillow. “My mother would have loved that.” 

“I’m sure she would have.” Kurt looks over at her and sees just how tired she is, realises she’s hanging on to consciousness for him. “Go to sleep.” 

A low, barely audible hum comes from her and she doesn’t need to be told twice; she soon drifts off into her peaceful little bubble again. Comatose for a few hours at least, comfortable and content, with everything she needs within arms length. 


	19. 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe how long it’s been since I updated and I feel terrible, I’m really sorry about that. These current times have been super stressful and this story just disappeared from my mind. Many thanks to my ever patient and motivating beta for her work.   
As a result of the pandemic and my requirement to work excessively awkward and long shifts I’ve decided to end this story earlier than originally planned because I won’t have time to commit to it fully. Some chapters will be combined and some just cut out.   
One last note, Tumblr has deactivated my blog :/. Considering I don’t have really have time for it right now I’m not missing it so much, just know that this story hasn’t been discontinued or anything because of that. I may post about it on a sideblog away from my personal about updates so keep an eye out for the tag if you want them. When I get the time I’ll remake my writer-based blog and refer to it here.  
Thanks to everyone for not giving up on this. Here’s 19.

There’s a soft pitter-patter coming from over her shoulders, the light rain shower spilling from the bright grey sky. It’s a breezy afternoon unless the clouds clear and let the sun shine, then the air warms up. Not enough for Diane to uncurl her hands from around the warm ceramic of her coffee mug, held in front of her chest as she inhales the stark scent of black decaf coffee and nods her head occasionally as Will speaks. 

They’re standing in her office, reviewing their current court strategy and trying to find a way to improve it if possible. First her back begins to ache, her legs still tender from the cramping the night before; hence why she’s standing and moving about rather than sitting at his side or across from him. However the more Will speaks the more distant his words become, the drumming pound of her head behind her left eye and circling around to her occipital makes its presence known in a dull but strikingly painful beat. A small wince canvases her face, lines creasing her skin around her eyes and temples as she squeezes her blue eyes shut and puts her mug blindly on the table. The soft clatter silences Will and he tilts back his head to look up at his partner, immediately stands and steps round the table to her side when he sees her sway. 

“Diane...”

“I’m fine.” She replies immediately, her voice nothing short of stern. 

It’s blurry as she’s helped down onto the couch, her body plopping into the cushions and making itself comfortable. A small, questionable silence is shared between the two and eventually Diane opens her lips, a sharp breath getting sucked into her mouth in the process. 

“I’m fine, Will.” First she addresses the obvious question in his eyes, wanting to will away his concern. 

“You want anything, water, painkillers?” He suggests, shifting slightly as he surveys her still from his kneeling position.

“It’s just a small throb, really it’s nothing.” The suggestions are dismissed and she draws herself forward to sit up straighter. 

Her blazer is folded across her growing abdomen just enough to hide the swollen shape of it, but realising she’s not going to get anywhere with assuaging Will’s doubts, and the fact she’s not going to get any smaller, she figures now is the time to tell him the news. 

He’s midway to accepting her answer and standing when she speaks to him again, her hands clasped loosely on her lap.

“Will there is something.” She eyes him as he stops and takes a step back, comes within distance of the couch to fall into it; less dramatically than she did. 

Eyes dance in a gaze and he can see the hesitation flicker, then blow out like a candle. Her thumb draws circles on the back of her hand and his eyes drop momentarily to the ministration before returning to hers. 

She doesn’t intend to divert attention, to delay any longer. She’s content, she’s in love with her pregnancy. But men, especially, won’t understand that. Not all at least. And working in a man’s world has proven this to her time and time again. Which is exactly the reason she has yet to tell Stern, or Lyman, or anyone relating to her work. 

“I’m pregnant.” Diane announces, her voice so casual it’s almost like she’s told him many times before.

Whatever Will had been expecting her to say it’s not that, despite how close he’s gotten to it before, but a toothy smile stretches across his pale features and in turn creates a mirrored smile on Diane’s. No words have to be said for her to know what he’s thinking but he still stands up and closes the small distance between them again, his hand being offered for her to take in the need of sitting up. Usually she would remind anyone who makes the gesture that she can still do things on her own, but this time she takes his offered extremity and once standing in front of him allows him to throw his arms around her. 

Murmurs of ‘congratulations’ and ‘thank you’ are expressed with emotional sincerity and when they draw back to once again meet eyes, Diane’s smile has evolved and stretched almost ear-to-ear. Her obvious delight and contentment are not just visual, but also palpable and Will has to wonder how she’s managed to contain her excitement these last couple of weeks. A few questions are asked, simple things such as when the due date is and the reason behind her adamancy to find a new home and why she really wants to move becomes much more believable. It’s when he brings up the other partners that Diane’s smile waters down and Will comes to the realisation she hasn’t told anyone at work, not even the senior partners. 

She eases down onto the couch again and leans forward, her back at a slight arch. The position provides little relief for the soft throb in her lower lumbar area but she doesn’t pay much attention to it; her mind is elsewhere. Mainly on her professional concerns. 

“I haven’t told anyone, yet.” Diane confirms what Will has just made himself aware of. 

A subtle twitch of a bushy eyebrow and Diane is elaborating. “If I tell Stern or the other partners they’ll change my cases and most definitely give me those they think are easier for a pregnant woman.” Diane’s voice penetrates the air with a determined vigour, highlighting just how against the concept she is. 

She can see Will hesitate in his response and tilts her head, blinks slowly and rolls her jaw as she awaits nearly impatiently for the answer that could see this conversation going in two completely different ways. Blue eyes harbour a dangerous gleam that silently tell him to answer carefully, a glare that makes Will consider his response meticulously. 

“They will.” He nods his head once, the words spoken slowly. 

Diane waits a moment before speaking, lets the silence between them linger to show just how serious a topic this has shifted into. 

“You’re the only person who knows so far, Will. I’d like to keep it that way, until it’s impossible to avoid.” Diane’s voice fills the room again, her hand bending back to gesture to her blazer hidden bump. 

In recent weeks she has grown considerably, the swell of her lower abdomen as prominent as ever and yet it’s still small for a five month foetus. She’s learned which colours highlight the bump and which conceal it, which outfits work to cover it from the side. Even when the time comes that she cannot conceal it anymore, she doesn’t know if she’ll say a word — she doesn’t have to, asking is, technically, discrimination and she knows for a fact the senior partners don’t need that on their plates right now. It’s a boost to her confidence on her professional stance and a reassurance to her personally, too. 

“It’s not my place to say a word about it.” Will makes a brief gesture of zipping his lips with his thumb and index, the move making Diane’s lips turn up at the corners in silent appreciation.

“You remember I need to leave within the hour right,” Diane reminds, not quite asking. 

He nods the affirmative and she’s obviously satisfied by that, doesn’t elaborate anymore than is needed and is sure they’re about to get back to work when Will pipes up again, delaying their interest in their profession. 

“How is the house hunting going, find anything worth considering?” 

Pursed lips release a breath of air. The sound answers all; no. Then she shakes her head, though unnecessary. “We’re trying to take everything into consideration. Location, distance from relatives, distance from our work. And then there’s finding a good school for when the time comes.” Off on a tangent, Diane reveals more of her concerns than necessary but Will doesn’t lose any interest as she continues, only eyes her with a subtle look of impression. 

She really is thinking of _everything_. 

“Our front garden is literally a footpath, my house is a ten minute drive away, twenty by foot. I would rather drive an extra hour in the morning if it means we have a secure garden that a child can comfortably play in.” Diane summarises eventually, hands clasping together. 

“You want to live in the country?” Will asks, the obvious turn of his lips revealing his surprise and Diane tilts her head, her lips parting slightly. 

“What’s that look about?” She returns instead. Will just raises his arms in surrender. Her head straightens up again. “I don’t want to live in the country, just like Kurt doesn’t want to live in the city. But he’s compromised for me, and now I’m compromising for him and the baby.” 

Will let’s a little hum out as a response, but that gleam of disbelief doesn’t waver from his eyes. So much so that Diane just shakes her head and looks away. Though they’ve only gotten to know each other in recent months, both tend to feel like they’ve known one another for years; there’s a comfort shared between the two, an ease, that allows them to flow from strict conversation to casual conversation with a single sentence. 

“Shut up Will.” 

“I didn’t say a word.” 

“You don’t have to I can see the whole paragraph on your face.” She throws a hand up and it falls down to her leg again, eliciting a low slap when the limbs meet. 

Silence drones on for a moment between them, both knowing they should get back to the professional matters at hand yet suddenly feeling less driven to; the obvious benign banter shared between the two has relaxed them into a not quite lazy, but laid back approach that if they remain in, they won’t get any more work done before she must leave. 

Diane’s eyes shift to the paperwork, then over to her partner. “We should get back...” but they don’t stop and those eyes move over his shoulder; out the large glass pane where she finds two people talking, two people she doesn’t want talking without her presence until everything is revealed. 

_ Oh no.  _

_ Oh, shit!  _

Diane pushes up on her feet rapidly, the speedy move making her lightheaded but it doesn’t deter her, she just sidesteps around her desk and hits her knee off the corner in the process. A murmured ‘ow’ gushes from her and her frantic movements confuse Will more than his eyebrows convey. 

“Back in one minute.” Diane utters before disappearing around the corner. 

Will watches her go and then turns around to watch her through the same window she’d just been looking out; her urgency making more sense now than it would have had she not told him the news earlier. Her husband and Stern, standing in discussion. 

“There she is.” Jonas gestures to the tall blonde as she approaches, their conversation dying out before Diane comes within earshot. 

Kurt turns to look in the direction, the feigned smile that’s plastered on her red lips narrowing Kurt’s eyes when he sees the urgency hidden in her features. 

“Hey.” Diane greets her husband first, before turning her attention to the shorter of the three with a lesser smile. “You were looking for me?” 

“Your partner, actually. He’s wanted by Howard, needs someone to catch any details he lets slip out.” 

A soft hum comes from Diane and she nods her head, then gestures to her office. “He’s in my office.” 

Diane turns to lead the two men into her office, her arms crossing over her chest. The sound of her heels get Will’s attention again and he looks over to where they stop, the other two pairs of shoes unexpected. He stands upon seeing Stern, who makes his presence clear immediately and leaves the office with the belief the younger man is following. Whereas the younger man is actually eyeing the older man with a more personal connection to the female lawyer and offering him the same sentimental ‘congratulations’ he offered his partner. Then, he retires from the room, leaving the two alone. 

Kurt waits for them to be out of ear shot and out of sight, then turns completely to face his wife. She smiles a little at him, admitting her silent panic with a shrug of her shoulders. 

“I thought you might think I’d told him.” Diane confirms with a guilty dip of her chin, blonde tresses falling gently against her cheeks. 

“The man is like a ghost. He just appears.”

Diane bounces here eyebrows and steps back behind her desk, finger pads dragged along the glass and leaving behind an almost invisible trail. “Reminds me of a certain someone.” 

A snort and tap of his boot against the wooden floor, Kurt’s amusement is expressed in a nearly imperceptible smile. “You want me to make an appointment next time?” 

A low laugh, then the loud zip of her bag. “Yes.” 

His smile grows temporarily bigger, brown eyes never moving from her when she walks over to the table she and Will were gathered around earlier. Kurt waits patiently as she gathers the sheets into a compact pile and carries them to her desk. Judging from Will’s required presence with Howard for the next two hours, she figures she has enough time to take a break away from the workload to go house hunting undisturbed. 

Bag now secured on her shoulder, phone and car keys held in her hand she follows Kurt out of her office and mentions to her secretary how to contact her if she’s needed and where she’s headed. However she’s hoping no call will come as they’ve been anticipating this appointment for the past two weeks, ever since the last one got them nowhere, and since the ever nagging thought in the back of her mind that she doesn’t want her front garden being a street with cars racing by everyday; especially when their baby will grow into a toddler and take to exploring by foot more. 

“Where did she say the first house was?” Diane asks as they stop at the elevator, a curt nod her response when Kurt answers with the address. 

It’s familiar but not very, she just knows it’s in a small estate. Cushy, but she’s already not keen on it. She likes the privacy their current home provides because while it’s compact, it’s not confined. An estate seems to give away any sense of privacy to neighbours with too much time to spare. She doesn’t share her apprehension because she knows her husband will tell her to go to each house with an open mind and no judgemental thoughts. Though it’s clearly a difficult thing to do. 

If Diane had her way she would stay right where they’re living. They’ve made that their home, have gone though so much within those walls. She’s comfortable and secure there. And yet, all that has been changed and now begins the process of uprooting and settling down all over again. That could be why she’s finding it difficult to visualise herself anywhere else, because any time she thinks of home she thinks of coming back to that two floor brownstone with the flower basket hanging on the left side of the door and the number plate 64 hanging against the wall. 

The car ride is quiet despite their teasing earlier, Diane too engrossed in trying not to imagine the ‘perfect’ house for a child while also fitting in her wishes and Kurt’s desires. This has to be their house, their home. It can’t be hers. It can’t be his. It can’t just be their baby’s. She won’t make him or herself miserable, not when they have so much to look forward to, so much happening. But the concerns she expressed to Will are so adamant in her mind; what about Gina and Frank, how will they see their grandchild if they move miles away? She wants them in the baby’s life as much as she wants them in hers. 

Kurt throws her a small glance, has been throwing them in her direction for the last thirty minutes but she’s been too distracted to commit to questioning him. This glance, though, wakes her from her daydream. 

“What?” 

“You don’t know where we are?” 

“I...” she takes her first look around at the scenery outside the windows, only now catching on to where they are. “Why are we going to Regina’s?” Blue eyes harbour confusion when they return to the brown ones sharing gazes with her and the road. 

“We’re not.” Kurt’s grinning, but Diane doesn’t find his aloofness amusing. 

She didn’t realise she would be this distressed over moving houses. After all that’s what it was, a house. But they made it a home. Now, they need to leave it behind. The concept does cause a small ache in her chest but she’s refused to voice it, probably won’t ever really voice it. It’s all for a worthy cause; their child’s safety and security. Nothing else will matter when their baby comes along, and both parents are well aware of that. 

“Then where are we going?” Diane turns to semi-face him in her seat, no longer looking out her window. 

It baffles her how she hasn’t realised where they are until now but then again, while her eyes were open she could have sworn they were closed. That’s how lost in thought she was. It’s only a good thing she’s not the one driving. 

“You’ll see.” Kurt doesn’t look at her anymore, which causes Diane to sit back in her seat and return her gaze to the window. 

When they pull up to the house Diane just about manages to not choke on her own breath, the property not one she’s been planning on seeing or even thinking about. In fact, it slipped her mind not long after they’d see it. 

“Are you serious?” She looks over at her husband, who’s already half way out of the car. 

“Why else would we be here.” Kurt closes the door just as Diane unbuckles her belt, waits at the bumper until she’s at his side and together they approach the realtor, waiting for them by her own car. 

Those same domestic visions that Diane visualised months ago come back in a blink. All four seasons, with a little toddler running around the garden in each, rotate in her mind like a camera roll. Excitement bubbles down low in her swollen tummy and her hand subconsciously moves to it. She’s not sure if the sudden pressure she’s feeling within her bump is the baby signalling its opinion on the house or if it’s just her bladder telling her for the seventh time today that she has to go, again. Nevertheless, Diane knows this is the one. It has to be. She hasn’t been able to see either her or Kurt or their child in her mind as potently as she can here, and with the insistence both inside her chest and her lower abdomen, she has a feeling her questions and concerns have been answered in the greatest way possible.

“Di, you coming in?” Kurt draws her to reality with the sudden call of her name, her head tilting so she can meet his eyes. 

He’s further away than she thought he was, telling her she’s missed probably a whole house description while away in her own mental cinema. Yet she doesn’t need it. She’s heard enough about the house from Gina to know what to expect and it only excites her more. 

“Yeah,” she sighs, following him with hurried steps so she’s once again at his side. 

Kurt’s content glance at her has her narrowing her eyes and she wants to ask how long he’s had this planned. Then again, she’s sure he wouldn’t have dragged her around the suburbs and city before if coming here. Still, curiosity is a bugger. Least Diane knows they’ll probably end up stopping by Gina’s before leaving for the city, and if Kurt’s planning has anything to show she wouldn’t be surprised if the woman is expecting them. 

As they climb the steps of the house, Diane can’t help but turn around and look down at the garden, drive, and take in the scenery. While the cloudy city had given the impression the day wasn’t going to be so pleasant, the countryside seems to differ; a shining sun and a gentle warm breeze that ruffles her hair. There’s two cars in the drive and yet another could fit, the road is at a distance that if their to-be-toddler decided to get adventurous they could prevent it with ease, rather than panic when their home is on the edge of a road. Trees create a shaded alcove in the corner. Diane visualises a hammock, her sitting on a small garden chair pushing it gently to lull a small infant to sleep while the small terrier lays beneath on lazy guard. 

She’s not that superstitious but when she’s given a sign, she takes the damn sign. And right now she can feel about five hitting her at once. It’s enough to make her head spin, a familiar warmth spreading through her that she usually feels when she sees her husband after a long, long day at work. She feels like she’s coming home. 

**Author's Note:**

> Many thank you's to those who read, like and/or comment. It's all appreciated, and I hope you enjoyed it!


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